


The Ring Doesn't Go On The Right Hand

by negickapologist (neganstonguething)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, M/M, but it will probably get more graphic later on, dark!Rick, killer!rick, least not initially, sex is vague for now, this is not a happy fic guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2018-10-18 15:46:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 73,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10620057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neganstonguething/pseuds/negickapologist
Summary: Rick's Negan's right hand man. He'll always be there for him, and Negan knows he can count on him. But what happens when he realizes he kind of doesn't want to count on Rick?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An anonymous user on tumblr requested a fic where Rick was Negan's right hand man. This thing was initially supposed to be a one-shot where the boys are being badasses together and fucking shit up together, but it evolved into this hella dramatic angst-fest.
> 
> The chapters on this one will be significantly shorter than most of the chapters I've written for other fics, but I will also post an update a day on this until I finish, as it shouldn't be too long. Rest assured, the other works will continue being updated regularly as well!
> 
> Hope you still enjoy this, anon!

Negan remembers exactly when he'd decided Rick was going to be his right hand man, and he doesn't regret it for a second. Rick apparently doesn't mind, either.

Rick lost everything when the infection took over. His wife, his child, his best friend...something Negan understands all too well. He found Rick beaten and bloody on the side of the fucking road in King County, abandoned by a group he'd tried to join with.

Rick had been in a very dark place at the time, and Negan had felt nothing but pity for the man at first. But then, it was like he'd taken everything that had happened before meeting Negan to heart, because it was like a fire had been lit behind his ass, and with every step he took, the flames licked at his heels and swelled around him. And he just took it like a champ--absorbed it, and let it become a part of him. He used it to make himself stronger.

He used to be a cop, and Negan can tell just as much as he's in disbelief about it. It takes nothing for Rick to raise a gun. Two assholes in a bar tried to threaten them, and Rick shot the life clean right out of them. He has an ear for the infected, and Negan always knows when he senses them, because he'll go quiet and his gun will find its holster, and then he'll dart off in some random direction to embed his hatchet in some poor, unlucky, undead fuck's rotting skull.

It didn't take long for Negan to trust himself with Rick. He trusted him to have his back, just as much as he tried to have Rick's back. They became partners, fighting back-to-back against the world around them--the dead and the living. Negan, with his trusty Lucille, and Rick, his revolver always at the ready.

Deep down, Negan's always known why. Not unlike himself, Rick is jaded. The world around him had fucked him over enough, even in just the course of a few months' time, as it had Negan. When you give up on humanity, it takes a special person to bring you back to Earth. Someone who sees you and understands you.

And now, they're inseparable. Rick is always at Negan's side, and Negan doesn't depart the Sanctuary without Rick right there beside him. He can always count on his right hand man to do what needs to be done, and damn if he doesn't do it well.

Sometimes, Negan fantasizes about the whole situation. He talks about the new world order in most of his speeches, but what he doesn't say aloud is how fucking perfect it would be to have Rick at the top of that new world order, right beside him. Like two kings, getting shit done and remaking the goddamned world together.

It isn't totally out of the question, either. Rick has made it clear that unless death takes him, he's not going anywhere--that he likes his spot in Negan's shadow, Colt Python pointed right between the eyes of anyone who thinks it's a good idea to challenge that. And Negan loves that. Loves _him._ Wouldn't trade him for the whole goddamn world, because he understands.

Rick's trustworthy enough that Negan goes on runs by himself with him from time to time. Today's no different. It's just the two of them, going further north to see what can be offered to them in that direction. Mind you, they don't go too far, but they are venturing out enough that they're coming across seemingly untouched homes out in the woods.

The dense treeline has probably done a world of good protecting these homes from searching eyes, but Negan knows you can never be too certain. They decide to start a ways down and work their way back, so that once they're done, they can just hurry up and get back to the Sanctuary.

Rick didn't like settling in at the Sanctuary at first. Negan was persuasive, though, and promised him that he'd get first dibs on one of the rooms. The ugly, tacky industrial area was actually decently accommodating on the inside, and with the group they'd rounded up during their travels, it wasn't hard to clean out the place. Rick chose a room, and Negan chose the one next to it. Soon, their new home had a garden, and a routine, and supplies. Negan's points system took off like a rocket ship there, and the next thing either of them knew, it was home.

And now, Negan can tell Rick's ready to get back there. He doesn't say it, but he has a hefty amount of appreciation for a civilized lifestyle after everything that happened. Rick won't hesitate to put a bullet in a fucker's brain if they cross him or Negan, but he craves a little normalcy. And if Negan's being honest, so does he. The Sanctuary isn't exactly textbook 'normal', with its strict rules and harsh punishments for disobedience, but it gets the job done.

The new world order doesn't have to be completely different. There's just a unique method with which things need to be run until the whole world realizes that civilization is back, and hopefully here to stay.

"Right here." Negan nods to a driveway with a wooden gate that's been broken. He figures either the evacuees were looking to get out as fast as humanly possible or someone didn't care to try and unlock it themselves and broke through to get in. Either way, Rick turns and pulls into the driveway, leading them down a long gravel path. They keep going for roughly a third of a mile before Rick stops the vehicle at a circular driveway that looks out on a widespread two-story house.

For a minute, Negan finds himself unable to believe that anyone could have missed this structure and that it's probably been raided clean, but that doesn't stop him from starting inside. Rick follows, and Negan hears him pull his revolver from the holster, perched at his five o'clock. It's the position he's learned Rick has taken when he's ready to cover Negan. Just a good enough angle that he can look over his shoulder to aim, and so that he can see where the other person's gun is pointed before they can fire. It's worked so far, and Negan likes having him that close. Makes him feel safer. Makes him feel better knowing Rick's where he can feel him.

"Door's locked." Negan thinks aloud. "Means we're either gonna be some poor fucker's company or whoever left this place didn't want the dead ones to have their shit."

Rick nods, and moves to stand next to Negan. "On three." He suggests, and they count in unison. At 'three', they both raise their legs and kick hard, sending the door flying clean off the hinges. They're looking at a fancy schmancy country house--the best protection they had against break-ins was probably ADT, and Negan would like to see how far they'd go with that now. So needless to say, two grown men kicking the door down works pretty easily.

Negan often lets Rick take the lead on searches, because he almost looks like he was born for it. When he knows it's time to get down to business, his eyes grow steely and he holds his gun a certain way. His steps grow quieter, and Negan knows he's in his own world. It's fascinating, flattering, protective, and Negan would even venture to call it beautiful.

He's always thought Rick to be beautiful, though. All these things--the flattery, the attachment, dependency, _affection_ he has toward Rick...these are things Negan hasn't told him. Of course, he's never missed an attempt to tell him about the hard-ons some of the man's bold moves have given him, but he does that without any significant romantic or sexual intent. The actual feelings are complicated, and Negan's not so sure he's ever going to feel compelled to bring them out into the open.

They've got something, but Negan's not about to give it a name.

They step over the fallen door, and both of them go completely silent. They're listening for anything--animals, walkers, or the reactions of anyone alive who might be inhabiting the home. When they're given nothing other than silence, the animals and walkers are eliminated from the possibilities, but that still leaves the chance of the living. Negan knows Rick, and that means he also knows that Rick does _not_ trust the living. Negan is as far as he goes with that.

They're staring into the entranceway of a home, with three different immediate routes. Directly in front of them is a thin, carpeted stairwell with green walls along it. Off to the right is a tile hallway. Negan doesn't know exactly what it leads to, though. On the left is a massive kitchen and dining room with a tile floor made to look like dark gray stone.

Rick raises his right hand and holds up two fingers, swishing them to the left, and Negan nods, leading the way. His hand grips Lucille tightly as they enter the kitchen. Said kitchen sports a massive panoramic window that takes up most of the wall closest to the driveway. Birdhouses are suspended everywhere around said garden. In front of the window is a rectangular dining table that could probably seat six. A plant hangs over the dusty table, wilted and dead, its long leaves brown and crippled over the stone pot it hangs in.

Negan sees Rick pause and stare at the sight, and he wonders what those all-too-blue eyes see. Is he envisioning a family at that table, or is he merely disgusted by how aged the whole picture looks? Either way, he doesn't linger on the view for long, and instead takes the lead across the kitchen. His gun's still raised as he wheels around in the room, searching for any sign of habitation. Thankfully, all they get is a ton of counter space, a stove, oven, microwave, and even a fireplace and set of shelves off to the side. A doorway leads into a living room, so Rick heads there next, nodding for Negan to follow.

The living room is laden with thick, maroon-colored carpet, a black sectional, an armchair, and a huge flat-screen television mounted across the room from the couch, in the corner. Another sizable window follows that side of the living room up to a wide flight of teal carpeted stairs, but Rick stops Negan before they can go up there. He nods off to another doorway next to the sectional, recognizing that familiar tile hallway from the entranceway. It's good to know that it ultimately leads here, but if there's someone around, they could be hiding in the hallway. "Let's seal off the first floor and then go upstairs."

So Negan takes the doorway and keeps his eyes open on both the living room and kitchen while Rick starts exploring the hallway. He peers over in time to see the man kick open the single door down said hallway, which Negan can now see leads into a bathroom. Rick steps inside briefly, but comes out soon enough, deeming the area clear. On the way back, Rick pops open a washer and dryer stored in an open closet in the hallway, taking a second to check inside. In a short matter of time, he's back on Negan's heels.

"We're clear--let's check upstairs."

The upstairs is just as empty, even though it's got four bedrooms, another full kitchen, two bathrooms, and a massive living room with another big screen TV. Rick seems satisfied with his exploration, but he exits onto the balcony on one side of the living room to peer out. Negan sees his eyebrows furrow down, and when he comes back in, he shakes his head.

"Balcony has stairs leadin' to the first level." Rick announces. "All these windows, that balcony...can't imagine someone's actually hidin' in here."

Negan nods. "Yeah? Still, we can't assume everyone has as much goddamned common sense as you do, Rick."

Not only does Rick have an insane amount of common sense, but he's also perceptive. Those eyes see everything, and those ears pick up every little noise. That's why Negan's quick to let him take the lead until he deems the coast clear.

"But hey," Negan continues, "you think this place is alright? Let's start raiding."

They find a travel bag abandoned atop the mattress in the master bedroom, and load it up with supplies they find in the kitchen. packets of seeds, canned foods, boxed foods. Negan finds a snake statue that he decides he just has to have, and ignores the unimpressed look Rick gives him in response. They gather up the soaps they find in the bathroom, a jug of detergent, some toilet paper, and towels. Their travel bag is too full by the time they're done, so they just carry everything else out by hand.

And then they reenter and plop down onto the upstairs couch to enjoy themselves some canned green beans and corn.

Negan figures this house was well-lived-in before the infected took it. Judging by the bedrooms, two of the inhabitants were children, and three adults. Their house is riddled with knickknacks that look like they were handmade in other countries, so they probably traveled the world a lot. Negan's picturing an upper-middle-class family. And the weird color patterns also tell Negan they probably renovated a lot of these rooms themselves. Ideal family, there. Lot's of cohesiveness and teamwork. Like himself and Rick.

He looks up from his thoughts to see Rick perched on his side of the couch, staring out the window. He's very clearly lost in thought, and he almost looks wistful. It's been a while since Negan last saw him look like that.

"...Rick. Fucking Earth to Rick." He grins, raises his hand to his lips, and even as Rick acknowledges his words, he still mocks a CB radio. "This is ground control--Rick, do you copy?"

Rick flings a green bean at him and smiles. He looks tired, and Negan's chest burns for him just seeing him that way. "I'm here. What do you need?"

"Not much." Negan shrugs. "Just curious to know what you're over there getting all existential about."

Rick shakes his head. "I'm just thinkin'."

"...No shit?" Negan flicks the green bean back at Rick. "I got that part, dooflunkey. I'm wondering what the fuck you're thinking about, not _if_ you're thinking."

Rick, clearly used to this dynamic, turns his gaze back toward the balcony. "Just thinkin' about how people used to live here. How my family could've lived here."

Rick doesn't talk a lot about what happened anymore. Negan can sympathize for his desire not to discuss it, so even after all this time, he hasn't taken the time to ask what exactly went down. As far as Negan's been concerned, that's all in the past and Rick doesn't seem to care to have it any other way.

At least until now, because all of a sudden, Rick looks so positively enamored with the idea of a family life here that Negan's curiosity rapidly gets the best of him and he dares to ask what he hadn't bothered with ever since he'd met the guy.

"Your wife and son?"

Rick eyes him, a little confused.

"What happened with them?"

The confusion is almost instantly swept away with a sickening expression of dismay. Negan almost regrets asking, but his selfish wonder has him too busy waiting for an answer to attempt to retract his question.

Rick frowns. He doesn't look angry, but there's something a little stronger than sadness resting on the forefront of his expression now. "You're askin' that now, after so long knowin' me?"

"Well fuck, Rick." Negan shrugs and pops a spoonful of corn into his mouth. "You really don't have to answer that. I just--"

The way Rick's eyes abruptly go wide startles Negan effortlessly into silence. He knows that look. It's a look of panic and awareness. Negan can't begin to imagine there's any other reason behind it than the fact that he suddenly feels as if they aren't alone. A few long seconds pass, and Negan watches Rick's eyes dart back and forth, before he suddenly spins and faces the side of the living room that sports the top of the wide stairwell. Negan joins him in doing so just as what looks like a portion of the wall comes crashing forward.

Negan realizes it's a fucking hideaway bed and his blood runs cold. He and Rick had both somehow missed it during their sweep of the house. Goddamn it.

There are two occupants within the hideaway bed, and when it flies open and hits the ground, they both bounce off the mattress, turn, and sprint toward Negan and Rick. The canned vegetables are quickly abandoned as Negan and Rick roll off the couch and ready their weapons. Negan hears Rick fire a shot, and one of the attackers collapses to the ground.

Negan knows Rick's about to take out the other one, so he withdraws a pistol from his holster, ready to cover him. But before he can do much of anything, there's an impact on the back of his head so violent that it sends his vision reeling instantly.

He thinks he's on the ground, but his head is spinning so intensely that it kind of feels like the floor and the ceiling all at the same time. Negan knows he's losing consciousness, but even through the blackness biting at the corners of his vision, he attempts to turn and at least catch a glimpse of his assailant. He sees a black shadow--maybe a man in a trench coat or heavy jacket--and then watches as the shadow gets its hands on Rick.

"No...Fuck...Goddamn it..."

Rick hits the ground right next to Negan, and almost instantly passes out. Negan goes soon after.

\- - - - -

When Negan comes to again, he's sick to his stomach. Nausea and a fierce headache ravage him like a plague, and the darkness is still haunting the edges of his periphery. His body feels heavy, and it's difficult to tell how long he's been out.

"...Negan."

A great deal of the weight in his muscles disappears when Negan hears Rick's voice. He turns his head toward the sound, and his eyes finally adjust to the surroundings once more. He and Rick are in the upstairs kitchen, tied to a pillar in the very center of it. The vast majority of the second floor is dark now, save for two lanterns--one perched atop a nearby counter and the other sitting in the living room next to the couch.

"Jesus tits." Negan sighs, turning his focus to Rick. "How long have I been out?"

"Wasn't countin'." Rick answers. "Dunno how long it took me to wake up, either. But I'm gonna guess at least a few hours for you after I came to."

"You met the fuckwads that did this yet?"

Rick shakes his head. "I've met one, but the others don't talk much. They come up here, stare me down for a few minutes, and then go back downstairs."

Negan's voice lowers. "How many are there?"

"I saw four before they knocked us out. Probably more, though." Rick sighs. "I dunno where they all hid." His expression falters, and Negan sees it even in the near-blackness surrounding them. "I thought we'd cleared this place...guess I wasn't lookin' good enough."

"Maybe not." Negan answers simply. "I'll be the first fucker to admit I'm surprised you didn't have every last asshair in line here, Rick. But shit, with how much you've done for me...us...I'm not about to turn it into a goddamned crisis."

"You should." Rick shakes his head. "This could be our lives, Negan."

Negan laughs, loudly. "It is, Rick!" He doesn't have to glance over to know Rick's looking at him incredulously. "This is our lives. Anyone born nowadays is born up shit creek without a fucking paddle, and that's just how it is. We're bound to get tied up and held prisoner by stupid shitheads every now and then." He's grinning to himself, but he hopes Rick's still watching enough to see. "What's important right now, Rick, is that you help me figure out a way to get us out of this bullshit."

Negan glances over just in time to see a very surprised-looking Rick Grimes break out into a small smile, before someone cuts them off entirely.

"That's not gonna happen."

The man speaking is tall, with a mess of white hair dancing wildly around his head and a beard that matches. His eyes, a vibrant green, seem to gleam down upon the two men in the dim kitchen. His expression is flat, and he looks more irritated and impatient that anything else. He's got a gun in one hand and a machete hanging from his belt in a homemade holster like some sort of hillbilly war blade.

Negan doesn't recognize him from the attack, but he only accurately spotted two of them before he'd been knocked out. However, Rick's eyes are filled with a knowledge and a resulting hatred that has Negan more than just a little curious as to who this guy is. It's as he catches sight of the glint in the other man's eyes that he realizes Rick isn't just sitting there, silently hating the guy.

Negan doesn't have to ask to know that Rick's thinking about how he's going to kill him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The moment Negan laid eyes on Rick Grimes, he knew they were meant to be. Like a powerful force in the darkness of this world, the apocalypse had remade them for one another.

Negan looks back on that moment often, and always with the same fondness as the last time. Following the death of his wife, he'd tried time and time again to join with groups, but they were always either too weak or too stupid to survive, which resulted in him being alone every damn time. It's no surprise he lost faith in people from the beginning.

Except for Rick. Rick's different, and always has been.

\- - - - -

_For the most part, King County has proven to be just as boring and useless as every other small town Negan's wandered his way into. He'd figured the suburbs and littler towns were the best route to go, but he's quickly finding that the smaller settlements are more grueling to navigate, because there's not enough space to raid for supplies, and damn near everyone's already been through the houses there._

_Negan's gotten his hands on a map from a bus stop, and from the looks of it, there's not much more King County has to offer. The elementary school might be worth sifting through, as well as the police station and an old gun shop down the main drag. Negan stole a modern-looking hatchback from a dealership a couple of towns away, so he's got plenty of space for guns and food. If he can gather enough to fill the backseat and the trunk space, he'll be golden for months._

_And that's kind of what he wants to do. Fill the car up, set up camp on the outskirts of town somewhere, and just exist for a while. He wants to take some time to think about everything that's happened, and only occasionally have to bust in some undead skulls._

_"...What the fuck..?"_

_He's headed to the aforementioned elementary school when he catches sight of something alongside the road. To this day, he doesn't know why he hadn't just mistaken it for one of the infected. He feels compelled to stop and check it out, which results in him pulling over fifty or so feet away from it. It just barely moves, raising an arm and turning over in the grass next to a fire hydrant, and it isn't until Negan gets close enough to see that it's an actual, living human being that he reacts._

_Against his better judgment, he rescues this man. All that frustration with people being weak and useless and fading away from him like they always do...it disappears. Negan supposes that's a sign of the humanity still somehow existing within himself, but he doesn't think much about it. At present, it's all about getting this guy somewhere safe and treating whatever has him unable to get onto his feet._

_"Fuck, you're heavy..." He growls as he drags the man's body toward his vehicle._

_"Then...put me back down..." The man mutters, his voice weak with exhaustion._

_Negan shakes his head. "Are you shitting me right now? You're fucking welcome." When the man doesn't say anything, Negan takes in the reason for this weakness--he's covered from head to toe in bruises and scrapes, and he's bleeding from so many places that Negan's surprised he isn't dead. "You'd better not have gotten bitten. Be a big goddamned waste of my time."_

_Again, the guy doesn't speak. Even as Negan loads him up into the passenger seat of his car, he's silent. Probably saving his breath, since it doesn't seem like he has much left. Either way, Negan gets him settled in the seat and then digs into the glove compartment for a first-aid kit. It really isn't enough, but at least he's able to seal off the more major wounds. From the sound of it, though, the more painful injuries are from kicks to the stomach and chest--injuries Negan can't do much about._

_Negan knows this man's probably not up to speaking right now, but he still talks to him. He bitches about how small King County is, and how far away from any major evacuation points they are, and how he hasn't found a damn thing since he got here...aside from this guy, at least. He thinks he sees the dude roll his eyes once or twice, but that's about all he gets. Not that he minds, anyway. It's more to vent than to start any actual conversation._

_They stop at the police station instead of the school, and once Negan clears it of any infected, he drags his new accomplice out of the car and into the building--straight to the showers. He strips the man down and plants him on his ass in one of the stalls, and then turns on the shower spray. It's cold at first, but then it gets warm...holy shit, it's warm._

_"Okay, I've got to take advantage of this." Negan says. The man's eyes are open now, and the blood and dirt is washing off his skin in layers. Negan sees how blue those eyes are as they meet his own, tired and aching. He almost doesn't look like he even wants to be alive. "I'll be in the next stall. You don't move a fucking muscle, unless it's to wash off or give your dick a few much-needed spanks. The latter of which is completely understandable, because I'm practically busting a nut just thinking about getting under this warm water. I'll be back in a sec."_

_Negan doesn't get the pleasure of warm showers much anymore. He's managed to find a house every now and then that still has running water, but it's always colder than an iceberg's asshole and anything but pleasant. However, he'll take what he can get so long as he doesn't smell like zombie shit._

_Regardless, he enjoys this shower while he can get it. He curses pleasantly as he scrubs dirt out of his hair and off his skin. He's in fucking heaven._

_And then the guy in the other stall moans. Negan freezes, and thinks to himself that, whoa, maybe the guy did take him up on the dick-spanking idea. It's just a single moan though, and it stops there. In a matter of seconds, Negan's mind is traversing the thought that maybe that moan was a last breath before he died or some shit, so he can't stop himself from peering over to check on the poor sap._

_Said poor sap is still sitting on his ass, with his hands splayed out on the ground to keep his body upright, and he's actually smiling up into the warm shower spray. When he takes notice that Negan's watching him, he chuckles._

_"It just feels good." He explains, and Negan finds the laughter contagious._

_"Fuck yeah, it does."_

_Once he's done showering, Negan helps his new friend wash up, and then offers him a hand. The man's a little weak, but he stands regardless, and they pace their way over to the benches to dry off._

_"So, you got a name?" Negan asks him, and he nods slowly, tiredly._

_"...Rick Grimes."_

_Rick, huh? Somehow, that name seems just right for him. Rick, with his pretty blue eyes and sharp features. His strong jawline and rigid shoulders. There's a strength to him--it's overcome by the injuries he's sustained at present, but Negan sees it. It's the kind of strength you'd see in someone who doesn't trust people. The strength to tell someone to fuck off if they cross you, or to kill if you absolutely have to. Rick's soft, but he's sharp at the same time, and strong, and there's something in those eyes that Negan wants to ask about, but can't figure out where to start._

_"I'm Negan."_

_"Negan." Rick repeats, and as he processes the name on his tongue, he nods a few times. "Nice to meet you. And, uh, thanks for helpin' me back there."_

_Negan shrugs. "...What was the deal with all that, anyway? Not every day you stumble on some bleeding motherfucker...especially not one who's neither dead nor bitten."_

_He sees the way Rick's entire body pauses on that one, and he can't tell if he's thinking about it or just pushing it away. Regardless, he eventually lets out a sigh and shakes his head. "I was in a group...probably eight or so people. They...didn't think I was figurin' out the way the world works, so they tried to kick me out."_

_Negan's honestly surprised. This guy doesn't strike him as week or feeble._

_"Joke's on them, though." Rick isn't smiling, but Negan can hear the resolve in his voice. "I bit their leader's throat out before they beat me to hell and left me layin' there."_

_Negan knows Rick can see the amazement on his face, and he makes no effort to wipe it away. "Jesus, Rick. I mean, I kind of got the feeling you were a fucking badass somewhere behind all those bruises, but I honest to god think that story just made my dick twitch."_

_It's in the way Rick just rolls his eyes at him that Negan knows this is different from any group relationship he's tried to create. This is permanent. Rick went so far as to bite the throat out of a guy to survive, so he's not going anywhere. And Negan isn't letting him._

_\- - - - -_

"What do you want?" Rick's question comes veiled in icy daggers, and the white-haired man in front of him shrugs.

"To tell you to shut up." He says, before he gestures toward Negan. "I get it--your guy's awake. But your loud mouths are interrupting our conversation downstairs. See, we're still trying to decide what to do with you. _Especially you._ " White Hair turns his focus to Rick, and Negan sees that flicker in his eyes all over again. He's burning with loathing. Call Negan crazy, too, but it doesn't feel like it's just because of the fact that he's got them tied up and is talking like a Grade Double A asshole.

It's like he and Rick go way back.

"So if you'd kindly keep your mouths shut, maybe we'll settle on something soon." White Hair observes, as he strolls past them and to the fridge. He pulls a bottle of water from it, which Negan notices the fridge is chock full of. He's surprised he and Rick didn't claim that during their raid earlier. But in their defense, the power doesn't work here, so they hadn't assumed anything in the refrigerators was worth searching for.

' _Note to self: raid fucking fridges more often, and also, once you and Rick get these fuckers off your asses, take the water bottles.'_

White Hair doesn't seem too keen on hanging around, so he departs after that, the stairs creaking in his wake as he shuffles back down to the first floor. Rick breathes a sigh of relief. Negan watches him close his eyes, as if he's trying to regain his bearings. It's like he just needs a minute to himself, which Negan can sympathize with. He doesn't know how long Rick was out, but it obviously wasn't as long as Negan himself was, and apparently, he and White Hair have established some highly negative relationship that has him seething with fury just looking at him.

Negan kind of feels like he left two Sims alone to go take a shit, and when he came back, they had done the opposite of hit it off.

He's trying to give Rick his space, but the silence is getting frustrating. He can definitely hear the voices of several men downstairs--five or six of them, maybe--but they're just on the wrong side of within earshot, because while Negan can pick up on the sounds, they're all garbled and incoherent, like Charlie Brown's teacher, and that's more irritating than being able to hear all the crude things they're probably saying.

And up here, it's pin drop quiet. If there were functioning electricity, Negan would be privy at least to the sounds of the fridge kicking on and off, or maybe the dull hum of sewer pipes, the drone of the upstairs television. Too bad he can't reach the balcony door so he can slide it open a bit and maybe hear a breeze.

But nope--just White Hair and his Little People, circle jerking or what the fuck ever downstairs.

"My ass is numb." Negan complains, unable to hold Rick's much-needed silence anymore. In his defense, there's only so much he can do to remedy it, being tied so closely to another body.

"So sit on one cheek." Rick deadpans.

"Really?" Negan retorts sarcastically. "You fucking think that thought hasn't crossed my mind? Hot damn, Rick, you just fucked me straight up and running sideways."

Rick just sighs, prompting Negan to back off a touch.

"Sorry." He concedes. "I tried that already--they've got you and me and this fucking pillar tied too closely together for any adjustment. Good thing I'm not sitting on my ballsack."

That cues a small chuckle from Rick, who shakes his head. "In a way, I kind of appreciate you not shuttin' up like Lewis asked you to. It's like your own way of tellin' them to fuck off."

"Lewis?" Negan's eyebrows shift closer together in a frown.

"Yeah," Rick nods, "he's the one who came up here a few minutes ago. He's not crazy about me because I killed another of his men."

"Another?" Rick's always surprising Negan--it's a big part of why he feels the way he feels about the guy. "You kick some extra ass after they got me?" Last he recalls, Rick had hit the ground right before he'd gone under, but that doesn't mean he didn't do something after waking up.

Rick shakes his head. "No, this was a long time ago." Negan sees the dark flicker in his eyes again, and when Rick looks at him, he swears he catches the tiniest hint of a smirk. "Remember when you found me back in King County?"

Negan has a feeling he knows where this is going. "Yeah?"

"The guy whose throat I bit out?"

"Yep."

"His name was Nathaniel, and Lewis is his brother."

Makes enough sense, Negan figures. With the way Rick and this Lewis guy were looking at one another, he'd been under the assumption that there had been far more than just this one encounter under their belts.

But Rick's apparently not done talking, because he's soon looking straight at Negan all over again.

"I think it's time I tell you what happened with him and I."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is like the Here's Negan of my writing--short chapters riddled to the brim with cliffhangers. Hell, I may shoot for 16 chapters since that's how long Here's Negan is supposed to be, ahaha. But hey, at least the updates are daily instead of monthly! There's that much. 
> 
> Not a lot is happening at present, but starting next chapter, it's gonna pick up speed. You guys aren't gonna like me by the end of chapter 3. -sweats nervously-


	3. Chapter 3

_Negan's honestly content fighting his way through the apocalypse with just Rick at his side. But when others seem to deem themselves capable of staying alive, they both mutually decide that for their own sakes, it's worth it to keep them around. Rick and Negan both know that they aren't going anywhere, but it'll suck to see everyone else go. Despite that, strength comes in numbers, and so does the ability to function as a society again._

_It starts out with a man and his wife--Dwight and Sherry, respectively--but soon enough, they've got a small army of fellow survivors. They've traveled all the way from Georgia to Virginia, and their trip has not been fruitless by even a small stretch of the word. Negan, having hailed from Virginia to begin with, knows the place and has a good idea of a location for a group as big as theirs to settle down in._

_They've got fifty or so miles left to go, and plenty of gas for the caravan to do it. But Negan figures they're going to have a busy-ass day cleaning the new place out if it does work, so it's best to tuck in for the evening and set out early. That way, they can dedicate the entire day to getting their new place free of dead ones._

_They've found themselves a quick settlement in the woods. Rick and Negan have tied wire around trees surrounding their perimeter, dangling bells and other noisemakers from it to signal their group if any infected decide to show up. On top of that, Negan assigns a handful of his team to nighttime watch. Rick offers to do the same, but Negan shuts him down. They both know it's because Rick's always trying to take nighttime watch._

_Rick guards Negan like he's a fucking billion-dollar gem in a museum. Negan isn't entirely sure why, but he doesn't mind, either. Having Rick right there, to always shoot him that protective look through those icy blue eyes...it isn't exactly a bad thing. It gives Negan a sense of belonging--like someone needs him. And when Rick needs him, he does so fiercely. Negan doesn't feel like he's going to wake up to a herd and find Rick getting devoured by them._

_He knows Rick is here to stay, and that knowledge is strong enough to start the slow-thaw of Negan's cold resolve to spend the rest of the apocalypse alone._

_The thaw's eventually become a full-on melt, which has resulted in the expansion of their group and the decision to head back to Virginia. There's an industrial compound Negan knows to be plenty big enough to turn their group into a small civilization. He knows it's probably crawling with dead ones, though, so they're going to be at cleanup for quite some time. Which has them here, camping out roughly fifty miles away, in preparation for a long next day._

_"I've lasted this goddamn long, Rick." Negan reassures while he gnaws away on an apple."I promise if you close those pretty blue eyes of yours for just a handful of hours, I'm gonna be fine and fucking dandy."_

_Rick believes Negan, but he can tell he doesn't like the answer anymore. Rick knows Negan is capable of taking care of himself. He's seen it before. Negan's fought through swarm after swarm just to get back to Rick before. He's strong, but still, Rick insists upon protecting him. Maybe it's something more internal. Something stronger than just the desire to care for someone he considers weaker, because he most definitely does not see Negan as weaker._

_If he does, he's damn good at hiding it._

_"I know you will." Rick answers defiantly. "But it's us."_

_Negan cocks a brow. "You're gonna have to elaborate."_

_"It's always been us." Rick shrugs. "I'm used to this--it won't feel right if I sleep now."_

_"Why?" Negan frowns. "The forest? Is it because we're not closed up somewhere?" When Rick nods, Negan shakes his head, lets out a few short laughs, and pulls Rick into a one-armed hug. "Why the fuck do you think we set up all those noisemakers? This isn't a New Year's Celebration."_

_"I know, I know." Rick waves him off. "It's just somethin' I gotta do."_

_"Just something you gotta do, my left nut." Negan sighs. "Lie down. We'll fucking cuddle if that's what it takes."_

_After some persuasion, Rick reluctantly finds a spot on the ground on his back. Negan joins him, and they lie together, staring up through the dense trees up at the night sky. Rick's fidgeting like crazy, but Negan lets him. Whatever floats his boat. Guy's gotta calm down eventually, right?_

_"So," Rick starts, visibly trying to make himself comfortable, "what's this place like? The one we're goin' to?"_

_"It's a factory." Negan answers honestly. "But it's big. When I left, it was still in one piece--a whole helluva fucking lot better than some of the ones we've seen in all the places we've gone. Widespread, with a lot of rooms and plenty of space for growth. Looks like we're going to be doing a lot of that."_

_"Yeah." Rick agrees. "You know this place personally or somethin'?"_

_"Sort of." Negan responds. "A buddy of mine from before the shit hit the fan used to work there, and he was always asking me to bring him lunch. Fucker never figured out how to make a goddamned sandwich, I guess. Anyway, I saw a good portion of the place over time. I can already tell you which room's going to be mine."_

_He turns his head and offers Rick a smirk, only to see that the guy's passed clean out. In any other situation, he might have been pissed that Rick fell asleep while he was being talked to, but literally minutes ago, he was trying to convince Rick to go to sleep, so all he's really doing is being obedient. That said, Negan just closes his eyes, turns to face Rick, and allows sleep to take him away, too._

_\- - - - -_

"I woke up in a hospital." Rick starts. Negan can see him fidgeting, and he suspects Rick's trying to loosen the ties holding them to the pillar. He trusts Rick's movements, though, and focuses instead on Rick's story. "Got shot some time before that, and slipped into a coma. That's where I got this scar." He nods down to where Negan knows there's a scar on his torso. He's seen it before.

But he's never asked. It's always just been another one of those things about Rick's past that Negan didn't touch unless Rick wanted to talk about it. Negan can be a nosy motherfucker, but when it comes to shit like this, he's always just trusted that Rick would tell him if and when he decided he was ready to. Apparently, now is that time.

Either way, he nods and waits for Rick to continue.

"It was hard to walk...hard to see. I spent a couple days in that hospital, locking myself in room after room because I could hear the dead ones everywhere. I eventually decided to go out, and that's when Lewis found me. I wanted to go find my wife and son, but Lewis talked me into joinin' his group, with the promise that he and his people would come with me to my house to see if my family would join too."

He grunts particularly hard and leans forward, tugging at his bindings a little as he continues talking. "They were all about growin' their camp and formin' a big group. They all had jobs...it made sense. But Nathaniel didn't like me from the start. Not sure what his problem was. Anyway, Lewis talked him into takin' us all to my house the next day."

Rick pauses, and Negan finds he's holding his breath. He has a feeling he knows what's coming, and going by the distraught look quickly forming on Rick's perpetually tired face, he's not too far off.

"They were already turned." Rick's voice drops to a low rumble. "Lori and Shane were in my bedroom, and Carl...was just scratchin' around in the living room. He was only seven years old..."

"...I am so fucking sorry, Rick." Negan's stomach sinks so low that he almost wishes he could use his hands to hold it upright.

Rick just shakes his head. "I couldn't kill them. And I didn't want Nathaniel and his group to kill them. But they did, and the whole time they did so, they had to deal with me screamin' for them to stop. I lashed out...socked the shit out of one of them for shootin' my boy. Got knocked clean out for it."

Jesus, it's no wonder Rick didn't want to talk about this shit until now. He's stopped trying to break free, and is now just looking over at Negan. His words come straight from his heart. These are obviously memories he holds dear, even though he loathes the circumstances. "They kept me around for all of a couple more miles, before Nathaniel decided I needed to go. I wasn't strong enough--wasn't made for this world and I was only gonna slow them down."

Negan swallows, still listening eagerly.

"Funny, how a little loss and hatred can make a guy do crazy shit. He tried to hit me, but I caught his wrist and yanked him in. I don't regret bitin' out his throat, even though I can still taste the blood. Lewis wants me to, which is why he's tryin' to come up with some better punishment for us...for me. He's pissed because I killed his brother. But he and his men killed my family, so it's just as well. Too bad he doesn't see it that way."

"...Damn." It amazes Negan that amidst this entire confession, Rick hasn't shed a single tear. He sure looks like he wants to, but he isn't. He's strong...so strong. Negan wishes he could do something to ease the pain...anything. "I knew it was heavy shit you'd gotten yourself into, but... _fuck_."

Rick shakes his head. "In a way, Nathaniel was right. Don't agree with what he did--I should've been the one to do it, but it would've taken a while for me to work up the guts to. I get that. But movin' on...that's somethin' we don't have a choice _but_ to do. I couldn't save them, so I needed to keep goin'. No one is safe anymore. I would've died in that patch of grass, blind to all of this, if you hadn't come by."

"Rick..."

"You saved my life. Didn't give me time to think about what had happened--just got me on my feet, carted me around wherever you went, and before I knew what had happened, it felt normal. I was okay with it...happy with it." He smiles--genuinely smiles--at Negan. "Happy with you."

Damn...

It sure sucks that they're tied up right now, or Negan would have thrown his arms around Rick. Instead, he somehow suffices to just nudge him and smile back.

"That is some intense-as-shit emotional mindfuckery, Rick." Negan says, trying to lighten the mood. "But I'm glad. Dunno what the fuck this apocalypse would be like without you."

Rick's smile remains for a few more moments, but he soon turns his focus straight ahead, narrowing his eyes. "That's why it's gotta be me."

"...The fuck?" Negan scowls.

"If he kills someone, I'm gonna make sure it's me."

"You don't get to decide that." Negan's eyes narrow threateningly. "Now, you have every right to get all sentimental over what happened, but you are not about to start throwing your fucking ass on the line like this. We can both get out of this alive. We always _do_." In Rick's defense, they haven't ever been kept prisoner together like this, but he's bound and determined to make sure his point still stands.

"It's already decided. You have to keep the Sanctuary goin' and you know it. Those people are dependin' on you." Rick, despite his defiant speech, seems incapable of looking over at Negan, who is glaring daggers at him. He can probably feel the heat behind the stare though, so good enough.

"Shut the fuck up." Negan rolls his eyes. "Sanctuary isn't shit without you and me and _fucking both of us._ Get your head out of your ass and come up with a better answer." His voice drops low. "I'm gonna keep doing the same thing."

The room falls silent, and neither man speaks. Rick resumes fighting to get free from their bindings, and Negan scopes out the entirety of the second story--at least, as much of it as he can see. The bedroom doors are shut now, and the hideaway bed tucked right back into its spot within the wall. But those are the only things he can make out in the darkness.

Not that it makes much difference, because soon enough, White Hair is back and staring them both down.

"We got it figured out."

Four more men join him, and he nods for one to untie them. He does so, cuffs their hands, and they start a sort of walking caravan toward the stairs. Lewis leads the way, with one man behind him, and then Rick, followed by another man, Negan, and the last two. It really wouldn't be hard to break out of the situation, but Negan isn't sure what Rick is thinking, and there's no telling how many more this group has, let alone if their car is even still outside.

He gets what Rick meant. Yeah, he knows the guy doesn't want to die, but they both also know they don't have the upper hand here. What Rick said back there was his way of explaining that he can't bear to lose someone he cares about again. That it's his turn to do the disappearing.

Negan appreciates the selflessness, but he's not letting Rick die.

Either way, they're directed to the downstairs kitchen, where the island awaits them. On a nearby counter, Negan can see Lucille, and his heart does about three flips when he realizes she's still unharmed. He knows these fuckers probably plan on keeping her, but if he and Rick get their ways, he's not about to let that happen.

He's pulled out of his thoughts when White Hair stops next to the island and rests his hand on the machete hanging from its holster.

" _This_ is your new group?" He asks Rick, who doesn't answer. He just stares. One of the men guarding him suddenly rounds on him and slams his fist hard into the side Rick's face--hard enough to knock him off balance and send him stumbling sideways. The other man catches him just as Negan bares his teeth.

"You leave him the _fuck_ alone!"

A man behind Negan embeds his fingers in his left shoulder, shoving him forward toward the island, while the other seizes him by the right arm. He doesn't have to look over to know that White Hair is still staring him down.

"I don't know who you are," Lewis starts, his voice cold and smooth, like liquor right out of a freezer, "but you don't matter to me. Say all you want--you're both still getting yours." Negan flinches every time he clicks his teeth. "Rick here...he and I go back. And it's not the kind of back where we can reminisce about years upon years of water cooler talk, complaining about the missus and shooting shit at one another. It's the kind of back that makes me want to make him _suffer._ What's your name, buddy?"

"Fuck off." Negan snarls, despite the warning in Rick's stare. He's bleeding from a split in the corner of his lip, and his cheek is swelling up like a plum. He wants to tear someone's head off for doing that to Rick.

"Really?" White Hair retorts incredulously. " _That's_ how you're gonna play with me tonight? You're not exactly in a position where defiance is a good move." He sighs heavily, and Negan looks at him just in time to see him roll his eyes. "You know what? I don't even care. You're fucked, anyway. Get him into position, boys."

It's as the room erupts into Rick's screams of protest followed by two men's roars for him to shut up, and with the way that Negan's hands are uncuffed and then he's being shoved forward against the island with his right arm thrown across it, that he realizes what this guy's about to do.

"This is our house, guys. We found it first." Lewis states, fiddling with his machete. Negan's body grows cold as he hears the metallic shuffling of it being pulled from its holster. "You bust down our door, raid our place, take all the shit we spent a _ton_ of time looking for, and then your buddy Rick here...goes and takes out _another_ of my men. I think we're owed a little back payment."

Negan looks up in time to see Lewis turn the blade of his machete in his hand, and promptly tips his head to the side and vomits onto the floor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you guys you weren't gonna like me, and this is why. -goes back into hiding-


	4. Chapter 4

Negan can actually feel the color draining from his complexion. He knows he's white as a sheet, and sweat is beading at his forehead. It's been a long time since he's been this freaked out, but it's also been a long time--as in, never--since he last had a guy imply that he was going to chop his arm off with a fucking machete.

As far as he's concerned, this is the end of everything. White Hair here cuts his arm off, he's as good as dead. The blood loss will no doubt take him before he can get medical help, and even if he does somehow reach a doctor, the infection's gonna kill him.

Negan doesn't want to die. He _really_ doesn't want to die. Not like this, at least. Not surrounded by a bunch of bitter assholes, and not knowing that Rick's going to be surrounded by them with no help after he's gone. Rick's a tough guy and he can probably fend for himself, but Negan isn't sure if there's a Heaven or a Hell or a Reincarnation or an _anything_. If he dies, there's a chance he might not even get to see what happens. That puts a sour taste in his mouth.

He can faintly hear Rick screaming for them to stop, followed by the harsh sound of fists hitting flesh again. He looks up, vision trembling, in time to see Rick double over from a hit to the stomach. He drops to his knees, tips his head up, and their eyes meet.

"Don't." Rick sounds desperate. "He didn't...I killed that guy."

"I know." Lewis answers. "Look at you--sniveling and getting all bent out of shape about me threatening this guy. Only makes me want to do this _more_."

Negan's hyperventilating, and no matter how slowly he tries to breathe, he can't control it. He turns his wide eyes up to White Hair, whose expression doesn't seem to be changing at all.

"It's a fucking _door_ and two cans of food." He growls, receiving a harsh tug on his right arm in response. By now, his entire arm, all the way up to the shoulder, is balanced across the island, the rest of his body leaning awkwardly sideways next to it.

"Oh, it's about _so_ much more than a door and some vegetables." Lewis responds. "Like I said, Rick and I go _back_."

And then Rick is screaming again, Negan is squeezing his eyes shut, and there's a ' _whoosh!_ '

The pain is excruciating. Even as adrenaline kicks in, Negan can feel every wedge of the blade into his skin, every last swing, until it works its way completely through, right at his shoulder, and severs his arm. His vision immediately swims, and he feels like throwing up again. He stumbles back, knees weak, and collapses onto his ass on the ground. Rick screams his name again, but it sounds muffled, as if his head is underwater.

There's blood everywhere, and cold swells up around Negan like the tide itself. He only faintly hears the frantic footsteps and Rick's angry cries before everything disappears entirely.

\- - - - -

_"This is it?"_

_"Yep. This is our Sanctuary."_

_Rick doesn't look like he's buying it, and in his defense, it all probably does seem a little too good to be true. For them to move into a giant factory and actually stand a chance at a semi-normal life...it's a little unrealistic at this point. And on top of that, Rick doesn't appear to be digging the aesthetics all that much, either._

_Beggars can't be choosers, Rick Grimes..._

_In Negan's defense, they worked hard for this. As he'd expected, they had a long morning cleaning out the factory's walls. Their camp is well over sixty men though, so it was easy enough so long as they kept to a routine. At worst, it was time consuming, killing infected until every room was clear and then dragging the bodies out to be dealt with. Negan kept a few strays and impaled them on the fence--a little defense against intruders and incoming dead ones. But now that they're done and the sun is working its way down and out of the sky, they're indoors._

_Some of the rooms have cots, and others even have beds. It's obvious people lived here at some point after the infection, but they're long gone now. Negan can tell this fact makes Rick nervous, but he seems to be trying to stifle it. As per usual, he's trying for Negan._

_Rick's always trying for him. Every day, without hesitation. He's always by his side. Always loyal, always dedicated, and always making sure Negan is okay. He loses sleep over Negan like it's nothing, and the one time Negan had gotten food poisoning, he might as well have been dying. Rick has been there ever since Negan had shown him that he was going to be there for him, too._

_They've been inseparable. They've always sat for meals together, planned runs together, and they even decided on their trip to Virginia together. Negan's not an overly sentimental guy, but he quite honestly couldn't imagine what a day without Rick Grimes in his life would be like. Nor a fight. Nor a run._

_And now, they have a home together, and Negan and Rick can stand at the top of it with their heads held high. Of course, this'll be after Negan manages to convince Rick this place is a good place to stay. At present, it doesn't look like much, but they're going to start fixing that, and they're going to start doing it soon._

_Negan's room has a bed. Rick has chosen the one directly next door to him, which does not. No big deal, it isn't like the two haven't slept next to one another before. Negan doesn't have to offer. He knows he's going to let Rick stay with him until they can find a bed for him, and probably after._

_That's what has them both in Negan's room right now, Negan planted on his ass on the bed and Rick scrubbing dust away from one of the windows with his fist. They're on the highest floor aside from the roof. They're safer than anyone else here, as far as Negan's concerned._

_"It's gonna take a lot of work." Rick muses, and it elicits a nod of approval from Negan. That's as good as an affirmative out of this guy. "The fences need repairin', and a lot of the windows are broken. Some parts of the structure are fallin' apart. But it's big...it has a lot of potential."_

_"That it most certainly motherfucking does, Rick." Negan smiles in satisfaction. "But we can work on that later, alright? Tonight, we sleep easy. Now, come here."_

_Rick turns around, and Negan finds himself greeted to a very confused-looking set of blue eyes. Despite that, Rick approaches and takes a seat on the bed next to Negan. He doesn't flinch when the other man throws his right arm over his shoulders and gives his body a squeeze._

_"So, I have a proposal for you. And it may very well be already quite fucking established, but I'm gonna make it anyway."_

_Rick shrugs, urging him along._

_"Well, we've been doing things together for a long-ass goddamned time now, Rick. We're friends, partners, whatever the fuck else you want to call us. And sure, any other pair of besties could kick ass and take names together, but not like we do. Nobody_ _rocks this shit like us. We're like the Bonnie and Fuckin' Clyde of the zombie apocalypse, and I love_ _it." He pivots so that he can look Rick in the eyes, and Negan himself can feel the wide smirk on his lips. "So, that brings me to the part where I pop the question: Rick Grimes, will you be my right hand man?"_

_He likes the way Rick pauses, like this is an actual fucking marriage proposal. And fuck, maybe it kind of is. The two have already nonverbally agreed that they aren't going anywhere, and things don't seem to be changing direction any time soon. Even if they're never going to hold hands or make out or bump uglies in this here bed, they might as well be married._

_Laughter is rare from Rick. It's not that he's not a funny guy--it's just more that he feels as if he has more important things to do. Going on runs, securing supplies, keeping their admittedly massive(and growing) group in order...it's a lot to worry about. And when Negan just isn't feeling up to keeping the pack in line, Rick does it._

_But right now, he's laughing like Negan's just said the funniest thing in the entire universe, and even though Negan doesn't think it's all that hilarious, he finds himself laughing along. They spend the next minute or so just giggling amongst one another, before Rick shoves him._

_"Yeah...pretty sure that's already been established."_

_\- - - - -_

Negan's eyes open to stained white ceiling tiles and the beeping of a machine nearby that almost sounds like a metronome. His head aches relentlessly, and he kind of feels as if he might be sick. His body is heavy, to the point that his fingertips even feel like lead.

He doesn't have much time to process all the different forms of exhaustion he's undergoing right now though, because Rick is suddenly hovering over him, his eyes wide and mouth spread out into a big grin.

"You're awake...Doctor Carson, he's awake!"

Negan wants to tell Rick to respect the fucking migraine and not be so damned loud, but it's hard to speak. And besides, there's suddenly too much going on around him for him to really be able to do much of anything, anyway.

Doctor Carson sweeps in right away, shoving things out of his path as he goes. He immediately starts hooking Negan up to a blood pressure cuff and feeling at his throat to read his pulse. Their eyes meet, and once the cuff is done squeezing the life out of his left arm, the good doctor sighs in relief and reaches out to touch Negan's cheeks, forehead, stomach, arm...

"Considering all the infection, it's a wonder he's already conscious. His fever broke. He's gonna make it." Even the doctor, ever under Negan's rule, seems happy to be able to deliver good news. "How are you feeling?"

How _is_ Negan feeling? If he's being honest, not very well. It's like a perpetual state of nausea hangs over him and with it comes a migraine so intense that no hangover can compare. On top of that, his right arm is searing like it's on fire.

"Like I've been newly reborn out of a baboon's sand-encrusted asshole and shat right into a fucking ravine."

Rick, who has been patiently waiting his turn behind Carson, smiles widely. "That's better than I've heard in two weeks."

Doctor Carson nods in agreement, before stepping back and letting Rick have his seat next to what Negan is starting to realize is a hospital bed. "We're looking at a ton of physical therapy in the future, but we should be able to upgrade you from sand covered baboon asshole to regular baboon asshole with some time. Just get some rest for now, though. I'll order you something to eat."

When the doctor leaves, it's just Negan and Rick, which allows Negan to get a good look at the other man. Rick looks tired...dead fucking tired. Hadn't he said that Negan had been out for two weeks? Rick looks every bit of two weeks' worth of exhausted. His beard is thick and unkempt, coming out in long, wiry strands of brown and gray, his skin pale and eyes baggy and dark. His hair is mussed and Negan honestly isn't certain Rick has had a shower in a handful of days. Knowing Rick, he was probably afraid to until he knew Negan was going to come out of what he's assuming was a coma first.

Well, he's fine, Rick. Go get some rest.

Negan wants to reach up and find Rick's shoulder with his right hand, but...why is that limb so goddamned heavy? It's like it's weighed down in a gigantic cast or some shit.

When Negan looks down and realizes there's fucking _nothing_ where his right arm is supposed to be, the sick feeling in his stomach intensifies.

Negan remembers what happened. How could he forget? Rick's screams will probably forever be embedded in the back of his mind. How desperate he'd sounded--how angry he was that Negan was being used as a punishment tool for him. He remembers the onset of panic he felt, and the malice in Lewis' tone as he attacked. The swish of the machete, and the agonizing, repeated cut of a dull blade through clothing, tissue, and bone.

But even he can hope it's a dream, right? Especially since it feels like his right arm is on fire right now. Like, the whole fucking thing. Shoulder all the way down to fingertips, it aches something fierce. But no matter how many times Negan tries to acknowledge the pain, he always looks down to see a whole bunch of nothing. His arm ends just after the shoulder, in a heavily-wrapped stump.

He...really did lose an arm, huh?

His body feels heavy all over again, so he closes his eyes. He regards Rick despite it, though. "...You should go get some sleep."

"I'm okay." Rick's voice is raspy, and Negan wonders when the last time was that he had some water.

"Bullshit. You reek." Negan growls. "You're hell on my fucking senses right now."

When Rick doesn't answer, Negan continues speaking, his eyes still shut. He's irritable, and while he knows why, he also knows he probably shouldn't be taking it out on Rick. Doesn't stop him, though. "Go take a shower and get some sleep. Come back when you don't look like you've been on the run for a month fucking solid."

He swears he hears the buzzing of Rick's building frustration in his own ears, before the man pushes himself to his feet, walks briskly out, and shuts the door behind him.

It's just...Rick looks like shit. He's exhausted, and he hasn't taken the time to think about himself for two weeks. Negan actually appreciates how intensely Rick wants to be there for him, but even amidst the realization that what had happened to Negan's arm had been real, he could still see how little Rick had thought about himself during this whole escapade, and when Negan thinks about that, it scares him.

It terrifies him, actually, and he doesn't remember when he made the transition from being flattered and infatuated to being genuinely concerned for Rick's health. But now that he's made it, it's overwhelming, and he suddenly realizes just how dangerous this whole relationship is.

It's starting to occur to Negan that he wants to keep Rick alive like he'd wanted to keep Lucille alive, and he can't fucking do that when the guy's throwing himself under the guillotine every fucking chance he gets.

He falls asleep with his stomach knotted up tightly and bile in the back of his throat.

What is he going to _do_?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just gonna keep hiding in my corner of shame until the worst part of this fic passes...


	5. Chapter 5

Negan's proud of his Saviors. He didn't anticipate their loyalty to him would be this strong, but boy, have they ever proven him wrong. According to Rick, he's been out for two weeks, and that's a long time for them to function without a leader. Negan knows for a fact that Rick didn't leave his side the entire time he was out, so any leadership roles he'd taken had been from that hospital room. Not much you can do from a hospital room.

Which means that for the two weeks Negan was unconscious, the Sanctuary just...ran itself. It was able to function with Negan out of commission, which he is undeniably proud of. He's already making a mental note to thank them in his first speech once he's on the mend enough to get in front of everyone, because they really have come so far. At one point, Negan and Rick ran this place with an iron fist, but lately, it just seems like everything...works.

Rick visits every day. Once Negan's recovered enough to walk, he starts physical therapy with Doctor Carson's brother, a licensed physical therapist. The hardest part, aside from nights of phantom pain, is learning how to balance all over again with one arm gone. It's significantly more difficult than he could have ever imagined, and he often leaves the therapy room physically exhausted and visibly irritated.

He appreciates that Rick doesn't make him talk. When they return to the hospital room every day, Rick just sits there, keeping him company. He offers him water and helps him eat, shoots him little reassuring smiles every now and then. His company is just as pleasant and comforting as it has ever been, even though they're not out in the throes of danger or standing in front of the rest of the Sanctuary's residents.

But the lack of Negan's arm is a constant reminder of the danger they'd gotten into. To this day, he still has no idea how Rick managed to escape that situation, let alone how he got Negan back to the Sanctuary in one piece before he bled out. He doesn't have the slightest clue what the man had gone through to get him here, or what happened to Lewis and his men. Hell, he doesn't even know where Lucille is, and that's a tough-ass pill to swallow.

In all honesty, Negan's afraid to ask what happened. Rick doesn't talk about it, and while it might be because he just understands Negan doesn't feel like carrying on a conversation after an exhausting day at therapy, he also gets the feeling that it's hard for him to bring it up. Maybe he wants to, and is trying to find the words. Negan honestly doesn't know. But he's a little relieved Rick hasn't said anything yet.

All this time, he himself has been trying to formulate the words he wants to say to Rick. He can't begin to imagine what life without this man at his side would be like, but after hearing Rick say how willing he was to give up his life before it had even happened...he's scared. Rick is his continuity and his clarity and his reassurance that there is a point to being around in the shambles of the post-apocalyptic world. If he lost that, Negan isn't sure he could get back onto his feet.

He wouldn't see a point.

Negan can't believe he's doing it, but he's genuinely contemplating telling Rick he has to stay at the Sanctuary from now on. He'll go on runs with other Saviors and come back to the other man, alive. He can still be his right-hand man. They can still make decisions together, and spend time together outside of keeping the Sanctuary afloat. They can still _make it work_. It'll just be with a little less recklessness. Yeah, Negan knows life itself is a dangerous game nowadays, but he and Rick had always been so quick to do things themselves.

Now that he's missing an arm, he doesn't feel like that's such a good idea anymore. And a one-armed Negan is going to be one that Rick Grimes tries even harder to protect.

Negan turns his focus to Rick, perched in that recliner next to his bed. He offers Negan a tired smile, and Negan becomes belatedly aware of the fact that he's shaved off his beard. There are faint greenish marks on his cheek from Lewis' gang and their assault on his face. They look almost healed, but they're a reminder.

Everything's going to be a reminder.

Negan's burning with a desire to know what happened, but at the same time, he doesn't want to bring it up. He doesn't know where to start, and he doesn't know where talking about it's going to take them. Rick has no idea what's going on in his head, and he fully intends to keep it that way.

Then again, they do know one another pretty well. Maybe Rick already knows and that's why he isn't talking. Either way, he offers Rick a tired nod toward the door.

"Go the fuck to sleep." He grunts. "I'm not going anywhere, and I'm not dead." The biting tone is almost instinctive at this point, and Negan notices with some regret how it gets under Rick's skin somewhat. Despite that, the man obeys and shuffles out.

\- - - - -

_If something were to happen to Negan, he knows Rick would be capable of taking care of the Sanctuary. Now that the place is fully functional, they're often too busy to spend much of their early day together, but Negan does catch himself stealing glances of Rick being in control. He directs people with a sense of sternness, but he's got a good rapport with all of them. Negan's methods are less friendly, but effective nonetheless._

_However, when you're in a big group with a lot of people who don't entirely understand the way you do things, it's not uncommon for them to get confused, or irritated, or in some cases, to outright turn on you._

_Rick and Negan see a little of it every day. Sometimes, it's just someone asking a simple question, attempting to tear down the way Negan or Rick do their jobs, met with a harsh response and an open invitation for them to pack their bags and leave. Other times, it's someone looking for a fight, to which both Negan and Rick have fought right the fuck back. And if they're not smart enough to see how efficient the two men are together and how loyal to said two men most of the rest of the group is, they try and rally friends to fight back._

_Simon reports it to Negan first._

_For the record, Negan really likes Simon. He reminds him a lot of himself before Lucille's death, and he reminds him of himself after meeting Rick. Charismatic, sarcastic, capable of finding humor in situations that piss him right the fuck off. And Negan's occasionally a little jealous of how calm Simon can be even when he should probably be furious._

_He's one of Negan's top guys. If Rick's busy, Simon is the next one he goes to. Quickly followed by Dwight, and then Sherry._

_Simon comes to Negan's room directly, in the evening, when he knows all-too-well that Negan and Rick are spending their time together. Negan's initially a little irritated, but when Simon explains he needs to talk to both of them, he relents._

_"It's that spindly little kid." Simon explains, planted on an armchair while Negan and Rick watch him from the couch across the coffee table from him. "Mark something--the one who works in supplies. He tried talking me into helping him rally up a team of people to turn on you guys. Doesn't like how you run things."_

_"Yeah?" Negan raises both eyebrows. "And what'd you say?"_

_"I played along, of course." Simon grins. "Turns out he doesn't have many. Six, seven guys maybe. Everyone else is either too scared of you or too okay with having a normal life here to join him. He wants me to act like some big scary shit is about to go down outside or something--something big enough to bring both of you there together, and he wants him and his guys to drag you down."_

_"You said seven, tops?" Rick questions._

_"Yeah--eight, if you count me, which you shouldn't."_

_Negan and Rick nod in unison, and then Negan turns his focus to Rick. "...What do you say? Think we can take seven dumb motherfuckers?"_

_Rick shrugs. "We've taken bigger."_

_"Welp, there you have it, Simon." Negan resolves, nodding to him. "Tomorrow, send those fuckers outside like they want you to, and we'll meet you out there and take care of the rest."_

_Simon just smiles. "You got it, boss."_

_\- - - - -_

_It's not a very smart plan, if Negan does say so himself. He's a little more angry to find that they've not only rallied up a few extra men overnight, but that they've taken the time to kill a woman to use as bait for the whole thing. Negan and Rick go where Simon leads them, only to find her on the ground, blood oozing from her skull. At the very least, he supposes they didn't let her turn. But that's not near enough to let any of this slide._

_As expected, Negan crouches to examine the body while Mark himself 'explains' the situation in the most fake panicked voice he has ever heard._

_"There was a fight, sir--she tried to get away, but the guy still shot her!"_

_"Yeah?" Negan doesn't look up from the corpse. He can see Rick standing on the other side of her body, probably watching to make sure no one opens fire. "And where's the guy who shot her?"_

_"He took off." Mark answers. "Probably zombie food by now."_

_Negan pushes himself back to his feet, giving Lucille a few experimental swings. "Is that so? The gate's not open, though. and I'm sure as shit that no motherfucker is a dumb enough motherfucker to try and climb the fence, considering what we got waiting for 'em." He turns, meeting Mark's gaze dead-on. "You wanna tell me the fuck really happened, Mark?"_

_Mark recoils like the coward he is, but a girl, significantly smaller than him, speaks up. "We shot her, so we could do this."_

_Negan has a few split seconds to recognize her as the little blonde named Amber who always complains about the work she has to do. She's cute, but hasn't yet gotten it into her brain that a life of luxury isn't something they all get anymore._

_Either way, they're suddenly surrounded. Seven becomes eleven, and with Simon standing in the group, that makes twelve. They've all got guns raised and pointed, half at Negan and half at Rick._

_Negan's proud of Rick, though. He doesn't react instantly. In fact, he's just staring dully at their assailants, looking more annoyed than anything._

_"Get on your knees." Amber warns, and after exchanging mutual glances, Rick and Negan both obey. Once she seems satisfied, she continues. "The Sanctuary is ours, now. You're going to turn around, let us point guns at your backs, and you're going to leave."_

_For a split second, Negan thinks that might be okay. The Sanctuary, as much as he loves the safety it has to offer, is so much goddamned work. He and Rick could easily find another place to hole up in and call home. But at the same time, he found this fucking place first. So like hell is he giving it up._

_That said, he lets out a dramatic sigh. "Alright, that's enough. Dwighty-boy!"_

_There's a harsh 'whoosh!' before a man behind Amber collapses, a crossbow bolt in his head. Frantically, the group starts searching for where the shot came from, but Negan is proud to see that Dwight has made himself hidden. In an instant, Simon rounds on the little blonde, scoops her up with an arm around her neck, and points a gun to her skull. Rick opens fire, taking out three of them, one shot after another. Negan whips out his pistol and takes out two of his own, before he and Rick both advance on Mark. Rick stands behind him, his revolver at the back of the guy's head, while Negan stops in front of him. The remaining people freeze, apparently bearing enough common sense now to know this fight is over._

_He laughs._

_"Really, Mark?" Negan cocks his head. "You really thought this shit was going to earn you the entire Sanctuary? Don't you know? I got friends all over the fucking place, here!" He takes a step back, motioning around him. At present, it's just Simon holding Amber, the bodies on the ground, and the three other people left standing(and unmoving), but Negan's metaphor still works. "You might think you got the cow's-ass end of the goddamned straw, but that's because you earned that end. And I_ still _give you water! It's about damned time you learned to fucking drink!"_

_He sighs, and then waves with both hands for the remaining survivors to follow, as he leads Rick and Mark and everyone else inside. "C'mon. We're gonna make sure this shit doesn't happen again."_

_Dwight is in the main room by the time Negan shows up, Sherry at his side. Negan nods and offers the former an appreciative smirk, before he directs everyone else inside. The people already there stare, confused and afraid, as Rick and Negan stop before them._

_Rick nods to the three people they brought inside. "Kneel." When said three people do so, Negan takes hold of Mark and plants his ass down in a nearby chair. Simon roughly shoves Amber over to join the other three, and she drops down to her knees as well._

_Rick is the first to speak up. His voice is deep, gravelly, and irritated. "This place is supposed to be a home." He snarls. "We're supposed to be a community. You got a problem? You bring it to us, and we address it. You come in and try to mess with us?" He nods to Negan, and then to himself. "You die. End of story. Now, before we get started...anyone else got any grievances, because this is the last time we're gonna be this goddamned nice."_

_The room is completely silent, and Negan mouths a count to ten before he starts talking. "Good! Now that that's out of the way, let's work on the fucking details!" He smiles, looking a little giddy for a moment, even though it's more a method of containing the fury he feels toward his Saviors right now. "For starters, there are seven dead bodies outside right now. Six of 'em because Rick and I decided to defend ourselves against some dumb assholes who thought it was a good fucking idea to wax all rebellious and try and fuck shit up. Needless to say, we're still here, and we're still alive, and that's how it's always gonna be."_

_He turns, narrowing his eyes to Mark, before he brings his focus to the other rebels kneeling in front of Rick._

_"Rick and I--we got a good fucking thing going here! I like to think we're pretty goddamned reasonable. But right now, we're pissed. And I'm particularly pissed, because you thought it would be a cute idea to kill someone not involved, all for part of your plan. Those of you who live...you're gonna be working shit detail indefinitely. Maybe forever."_

_"Let this be a lesson." Rick continues, as Negan gives Lucille a few twirls next to Mark's head. "You want to deal with us? Do it like you actually have a spine."_

_Negan shrugs. "Mark. Say 'hi' to Lucille for me. Miss her like fucking crazy." And then he swings._

_\- - - - -_

Jesus fuck, this hurts. It hurts so goddamned much. Negan comes out of a dead sleep roaring in pain, clutching at what remains of his right arm. It's hot in this room...so hot. Sweat beads at his forehead, and his arm feels like it's going to sear the rest of the way off. He can't focus, and he feels nauseated and dizzy and in so much fucking pain.

" _Fuck!_ " Negan screams, swinging his left arm out in frustration. It hits an IV pole that hasn't been used on him in well over a week, sending it crashing to the ground. He doesn't care though. He needs something for this pain, and he needs some goddamned fucking fresh air.

He's shaky and dizzy as he works himself into a sitting position on the side of his bed. The heat only grows more intense as he tries to push himself to his feet. Balance is normally the issue when it comes to standing, but this time, Negan just _can't fucking see straight_. He's not sure if he's going to throw up or fall down or some weird, unfair mix of the two.

Somehow, he finds his way out of the door of the hospital room. He knows the Sanctuary like the back of his hand. But where does he even go? Outside would make sense, right? But it would fucking suck if he collapsed out there and nobody found him.

Rick's doing exactly as Negan ordered of him and staying in his bed for the night, so if Negan wants to go find him, he's going to have to find his way up all those floors and to the man's door. He's certain Rick would be happy to help him, but goddamn it...! Rick's doing enough already. Rick's probably not even sleeping in his room. He's likely dwelling on everything that happened, lying awake, waiting for it to be late enough in the morning for Negan to let him into his room.

And he needs to stay that way. It'll get easier with time. Rick will understand eventually that things aren't like they used to be. That this weird dependency the two of them have on one another is no more. It's just hard right now. But in the end, it'll be easier. They won't so shamelessly throw their lives away for one another.

Rick was so willing to put his own life on the line. Before things had even gotten dangerous, he had just...told Negan he was going to put himself out there. That's not okay. That's not healthy. And if he goes out and gets himself killed like that, Negan's just...alone.

He doesn't want to be alone.

The logical side of Negan knows it's a better idea to just sit down and talk to Rick about things. It'd make their relationship so much more salvageable if he just _told_ him what was wrong, and why he didn't think they should go on runs together anymore. Hell, maybe Rick would listen.

But the side of Negan that _knows_ Rick knows he won't hear it. The minute Negan makes it clear to him that he's not allowed to join him on runs, he might as well be pointing a gun at his head. And he knows that if it were the other way around, it would upset Negan just as much.

It really does feel like the only right answer is to push him away.

But Negan doesn't want to push Rick away. What the fuck is the point without his right-hand man right there beside him?

He shoves back the nagging mental suggestion to find Rick's room and instead ambles his way out into one of the many gravel driveways surrounding the Sanctuary. Instantly, he's on his knees, emptying his stomach onto the dry ground beneath him. The fresh air helps somewhat, though. It sucks away at the heat swelling around him and leaves nothing but pain and dizziness in its wake. Soon enough, the dizziness starts to fade too.

But the pain doesn't give. Negan's looking right at the bandages where his arm now ends, and yet he swears he can feel the pain all the way down to the fingers. He knows what phantom pain is, but he also now knows why those suffering the pain often insist that their entire limbs ache. And this is so much more than an ache. This is a burning. If Negan thinks hard enough, he can almost feel his skin bubbling and blistering and melting under the harsh impact of whatever is causing so much goddamned fucking heat.

"Negan...what the fuck?" Dwight's voice is heavy with sleep, but he sobers up quickly enough. Negan feels his hands close around his shoulders, and he narrows his eyes at him. "...I'm fine. Just...fucking needed some fresh air."

"Is he alright...?" Sherry's voice pierces the night air alongside her husband's.

"I don't know...go get Doctor Carson, and then Rick."

"No." Negan growls. "Rick's sleeping. Let the guy sleep."

"Are you stupid?" Dwight cocks an eyebrow. "He'd kill me if I didn't tell him what was going on."

Chances are, Dwight's right. Either way, nearly fifteen minutes later, the good doctor is outside, assessing him from right there.

"We need to get him back inside." Carson says. "Look, we can put a fan in the room or something--"

"--No." Negan shakes his head. "It's not that it's actually hot. It's...this fucking thing." He doesn't know why, but he's suddenly using his left hand to tear at the bandages wrapping his right arm.

"Wait, Sir!" The Doctor tries, but Negan shoves him off. Dwight and Sherry join in, one of them prying his hand away and the other trying to stop him from swinging.

"Fucking--stop!" Negan's using every ounce of upper body strength he has to fight them off, but he's not getting very far. He's got three adults fighting him off, and he's sans one arm. The only thing he can think to resort to now is his feet. He bends his knees and then pushes harshly against the ground, throwing himself and the others back. He frees himself and scoots away, and just as he's about to start tearing at his bandages again, Rick's voice permeates the air around him.

"...Negan, what the hell's goin' on?"

And then he just _melts_. Rick's eyes are so wide, and so very blue in the darkness outside. He looks a mixture of worried, tired, and afraid. Like he wants to just collapse in front of Negan and throw his arms around him, but he's cautious. Negan's been making damn sure he keeps his distance ever since he woke up, and that's exactly what he's doing, so they're left with the scene where the pathetic amputee with phantom pain's got his fingers wrapped around the half-torn bandages of his fucked up arm stump, gawking with wide eyes into the endless pools that are the equally wide ones of the...

Well, there are literally no words for what Rick is right now. Is he a godsend? A blessing? A fucking curse? What is Negan supposed to do with that face? In all honesty, he wants to break down and just tell him how badly his arm hurts right now, to scream for him to make it go away, to tell him to take him up to his room where they could shoot the shit just like it had been any other day before _that_ fucker had taken his arm.

But he can't. So he just stares, like a fucking numbskull, and waits for Rick to inevitably figure it out...like he always does.

"He said he was hot." Dwight explains, and Rick nods. It's not the greatest of explanations, but Negan can see the understanding on the man's face. As always, Rick gets it, and Negan wants with all his goddamned might to regret that they'd met in the first place. He wants to hate Rick for becoming such an important part of his existence--so important that that pale blue stare can break through the searing white hot pain in his arm and pull him right the fuck back to reality.

Negan has always known Rick is everything to him. And when the desire to protect that everything from having just one hair on his head harmed comes into conflict with the need to have that everything by his side at all times, the end result is a very uncharacteristic Negan--one who is sick with grief, who feels like throwing up every second of every day.

"I'll take it from here." Rick reassures, waving Dwight and Sherry off. He nods to Doctor Carson. "Get your supplies and come to Negan's room."

Carson nods, and when Rick moves in to pull Negan's arm over his shoulders and help him walk, he doesn't have the energy to fight it. It isn't long before Negan finds himself lying on his bed, hooked up to IV fluids, with Rick sitting next to him on the edge of the bed.

He just closes his eyes and tries to let it all sink in. Surely, there will come some sort of peace at some point in time. Maybe Negan just needs to rest for now. See what his mind tells him to do after it comes back. Because at present, he doesn't feel like he's all there. His brain keeps telling him he still has a right arm and that there is heat swelling him and melting his skin, and that Rick has to be avoided like the plague. What kind of brain thinks any of that makes sense?

Maybe he needs another goddamned coma.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the overwhelming response to the last chapter! This is by far the darkest fic I've written for this pairing, and I was honestly having second thoughts about posting it because of everything that happens. 
> 
> As you've probably inferred, Negan's harem doesn't exist here. This is something I went back and forth on for the longest time, but I eventually decided that with his obsession with Rick in this one, I likely wouldn't have room to include them--so I'm just giving the girls other important roles in the story.
> 
> I hope you enjoy what's to come in the future for this, and thank you all so much for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

_"This is us." Negan says it like they're checking in to some hotel for the sake of a vacation, when it's actually just a cabin they've managed to locate by a lake. It's already been ransacked, so they know they aren't finding shit here. It's just a place for them to stay while they wait out the night. The dead ones come at all times of the day, but they're easier to spot when the sun's out._

_At the very least, they've managed to raid a couple of cars on their way in. They've got enough food to get them through a night and probably the next day if they have to. Frankly, Negan doesn't mind it one bit._

_The thing is, the two of them don't get much time alone anymore. Running a place as big as the Sanctuary is a lot of work, and they're keeping tabs on a shit-ton of people. While Negan is making sure the kitchen and stockrooms are doing alright, Rick is keeping track of the progression of the farms and gardens. He's got quite a green thumb, which a lot of the workers compliment him heavily on. Says he learned it from a guy he used to know before the world ended._

_Either way, they're busy all the time. When they're not on runs together or catching up on evenings in Negan's room, they're working. They've got a small society going, so it's worth it, but Negan honestly looks forward to these runs. It's why he and Rick go on them as often as they do._

_Rick doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he goes on a sweep of the cabin first. Negan's already got plenty of reason to believe it's uninhabited, but follows along just in case. The cabin is small, with a single bedroom, a kitchen, living area, and a bathroom. Before the infection, he imagines this place was well-kept, like a summer home, because it's got all kinds of cute modern touches, decorated to the nines with collectibles. The floors are wood and tile, but they all have some sort of rug stretched out along them--even the bathroom._

_Either way, once Rick deems the place habitable, they take a seat in the living room. Negan kicks his feet out onto the coffee table, and Rick flops his head back into his lap, staring up at the ceiling. And they just talk. They talk about everything from the cabin they're staying in to the rain. They talk about the Sanctuary and exchange stories about how things are going around one another's respective sides of the place. They laugh, and Rick shoves Negan in the face when he says something particularly vulgar._

_And then, as night seeps in and their only source of light is a lantern on the coffee table, they just stare. Negan thinks about how very important to his own existence Rick is, and Rick goes so far as to verbalize the exact same thing._

_"I dunno where I'd be right now if it weren't for you." He thinks as he takes one of Negan's hands and drags his fingertips down along the top of it. The feeling is pleasant, making Negan shiver. "Probably dead."_

_"Yeah, well," Negan sighs, resting his free hand on the side of Rick's head, where his thumb brushes the skin of his temple, "you're not. And I'm not. And we're never fucking gonna be."_

_"I know." The resolve in Rick's voice warms Negan straight to the core. "Do you ever think about where we are, now?"_

_"You mean at the Sanctuary?"_

_Rick nods. "Yeah. But I mean, we're a community now. We got all these people, and it's goin' so smoothly. Never imagined it'd be like this. Thought it'd always just be us two against the world. The way we do best."_

_"You're so fucking sentimental sometimes." Negan teases. "It's always gonna be us. Even if we start a whole new goddamned country through that place, it's gonna be us. You know this shit."_

_"I do." Rick raises Negan's hand to his lips and presses a kiss to it. It's so simple and sweet, but it makes his chest somehow ache and tingle pleasantly all at the same time. "I just like hearin' you say it."_

_The two fall asleep like that on the couch, and in the morning, they get ready to set out for the Sanctuary. They've still got some food left, and they figure that if they spot something on the way back, they'll hit it up._

_But a tire blows out on the way down the road, forcing Rick and Negan to walk the rest of the way--at least, until they can find another car. faintly, Negan can hear the infected growling and hissing, but this isn't the first time they've had to deal with the things, so it's just a matter of keeping knives out and being ready to thin the herd._

_Thankfully, they find another car. Rick drops into the driver's seat to hotwire it while Negan keeps watch. There's definitely a herd coming, but they're still far enough off for Rick to have some time getting their vehicle started._

_Some time, however, turns into a long time._

_"C'mon, Rick...clock's fucking ticking!" Negan urges as the snarls get louder. "The group's not as big as it could be, but it's still gonna make shit difficult if we don't outrun it. Be nice if you got that car started any second now..."_

_"I'm tryin'..." Rick growls. "I don't think it's gonna work." Despite that, Negan can hear him continuing to do so. It's the only car within their line of visibility, after all. They could probably outrun a herd, but it'd be safer if they could do so from within a car._

_But it's no use. Rick eventually crawls out of the car, wiping sweat from his forehead. "...It's not happenin'. We'd better get movin'."_

_"Fuck..." Negan nods in agreement, and they take off down the road. Dead ones are everywhere around them, from the giant group shuffling along behind them to the scattered ones in the fields and the nearby trees. Rick takes out a couple of the closer ones with his hatchet, before he waves a hand for Negan to follow him into the woods. He isn't crazy about the idea, but he knows what Rick's getting at._

_"C'mon, hurry." Rick urges as he boosts Negan up into one of the lower tree branches. He follows suit soon enough, and then they just decide to wait out the herd from up there. Easy enough--spend a couple of hours in a tree, let the infected get out of their path, and then keep going. This isn't the first time they've had to do so, and it sure as shit won't be the last._

_But then the branch cracks. Negan and Rick move to clamber over to a nearby branch, but it gives way before Negan himself can make it. He sees the wide-eyed look of panic on Rick's face as he collapses onto the ground, into the sea of infected._

_He still has no idea how he comes out of it unscathed. He's stabbing wildly with his knife, aiming for the skulls and hands of any who drop down on top of him. "Goddamn it! Stupid...fucking pricks!" He roars as their hands and teeth try to come in from all angles._

_And then they all start dropping, one by one. Negan realizes they caught the ass end of the herd, because Rick's able to swoop down for the rescue, Lucille in hand. After that, Negan scrambles to his feet, takes his bat back, and he and Rick go to town clearing out dead one after dead one._

_Thankfully, the herd's decently small. But the scar it leaves in its wake is one that affects Rick perpetually from that day on. Negan knows why. He knows it's because he almost got his ass eaten, and Rick had just told him the previous night how he didn't know if he could make it with Negan gone._

_From that day forward, he's a little less willing to go on runs by himself with Negan._

_\- - - - -_

Negan spends another week tied up to Carson's medicine. Another week lying there, being analyzed and questioned and just wishing he was asleep through all of it. As per usual, Rick's right there, keeping his distance and disappearing when it looks like Negan wants him to. So incredibly loyal, reading the room and getting the message, and coming back only when he knows Negan either needs him or is ready for his presence.

Therapy starts back up after that week, and Rick pushes Negan. He's getting stronger, and more balanced. The dizziness and heat ebb away. A woman named Denise is welcomed into the Sanctuary, and joins forces with the doctors to help formulate methods for combatting Negan's phantom pain. He spends some days in an office with her, and other days in a gym at the Sanctuary, learning how to walk and run with just one arm. He practices using his left hand in his room, via making the bed or cleaning the table or swinging things around like he would Lucille.

She's nowhere to be found, and Negan hasn't worked up the heart to ask Rick about her. Silently though, he hopes Rick somehow managed to kill off every last one of those men, and that once he can run a good distance without losing his balance, he can make a run back for that house and see if his trusty vampire bat is still hiding in there somewhere.

Losing said bat has been something of a lesson for Negan. The way he lost her, and the circumstances leading up to her death...Negan's had a lot of trouble letting her go. He's not one hundred percent certain he ever _did_ let her go. He told her in her last few moments just how much she meant to him, but he had been a piece of trash all the way to the end. Useless, human trash.

And maybe that's why it's so easy for his brain to tell him it's okay to push Rick away. That he doesn't deserve someone so loyal and dedicated and willing to stick their neck out there for him as Rick is. That if Rick is going to be unhealthily dependent on someone, it needs to be someone who _isn't_ Negan. Someone who is capable of protecting him just as much as he wants to protect them.

In all honesty, he just wants Rick to be okay.

His conflicting thoughts are taking a toll on everything, though. They take a toll on his stress level, making him irritable and difficult to be around, and they take a toll on his relationship with Rick. They make it difficult for him to focus on spearheading the Sanctuary. Hell, he hasn't even felt like jacking off lately. It's too easy to want to use a right hand that doesn't exist anymore.

Rick, ever present at his side, gets the brunt of it. Negan has snapped at him to go to bed, for forgetting silverware because of how tired he was, and even just for being there for him. Sometimes, it's because he's exhausted and frustrated from therapy. Other times, it's because he's just so angry that Rick hasn't given up on him.

Today's no different. He and Rick have just finished one hell of a tiring day at therapy, and Rick is accompanying him back to his room. Negan's doing a pretty good job this time. He's starting to feel more and more normal every day. The burning in his arm seems localized to the bandaged area as of late, and Negan's starting to wonder if his mind and body are finally starting to find a more normal space to exist in.

But then, Rick speaks up and Negan's tongue slips, and it's like he's tripped one step up, and fallen ten steps down.

"Too bad you don't have Lucille anymore." Rick's tone isn't rude or taunting. If anything, he sounds genuinely remorseful that he wasn't able to rescue her for Negan. But Negan's mind hears the name, thinks about everything it's been conflicting over lately, and churns out hateful words.

He's good at those. No surprise there.

"That's not my fault." He bites. "I passed out after having my fucking arm chopped off."

"I know." Rick answers, so calmly that Negan hates himself a little more. "I wasn't blamin' you or anything."

"Ever think she's a difficult topic to discuss now that she's MIA?" Negan answers, tone still scathing.

He shoots Rick a glance just in time to see the man's shoulders slump. "Negan, I..."

"You _what_? You're _sorry?_ " When Rick just nods in response, Negan clears his throat and turns away. "I know you're sorry--sorry doesn't bring jack fucking shit back though, Rick. Go be sorry somewhere else."

"You know what?" Rick suddenly bites back. "Fine." When Negan plops down on the bed and looks up at him, he sees wide, angry blue eyes, hands perched on his hips, as if he's not sure where else to put them. "I did what I could, Negan. You're gonna have to forgive me if I thought the baseball bat memorial to your late wife wasn't as important as yours. You were _bleedin' out_. I saved _you_. And I don't regret doin' so."

Part of Negan wants to lash out at him for his harsh comments about Lucille, but another part is just standing there in shock, watching Rick finally come unglued at him. Guilt and pride bubble up in his chest and blend together like globs of contrasting paint colors, and Negan's beyond words. He just...listens.

"You're goin' through a lot. I _get_ that. I'm _sorry_ , okay? I'm sorry he took your arm. I'd slice mine off and give it to you in a heartbeat, but I _can't_ , Negan." Rick shrugs, a defeated and exasperated shrug. "I can't give you your arm back, and I can't go find Lucille, yet. And I can't take you treatin' me like I did all of this to you anymore. Fuck..." Negan's chest feels like it's cracking when he watches Rick bury his fingers in his hair and swallow back a wave of emotion. "I probably deserve this--"

"No, you don't--" Negan tries, but Rick's either off in his own world or doesn't care to hear what Negan has to say at the moment.

"--but I can't anymore." Rick waves to the door. "I'm gonna leave. I'll be back in the mornin' for your therapy. Hopefully, you'll be in better spirits. But you're gonna stop bitin' my head off. And when we're done with therapy, you're gonna talk to me. You might want me gone, but I'm not goin' anywhere until I know for sure I'm not welcome anymore."

And then, he's gone.

Negan doesn't remember ever feeling this sick in his entire life.

\- - - - -

_The near-death experience in the woods has Negan running on adrenaline clear until he and Rick get back to the Sanctuary. But once they return, he's ready to head back to his room, take a long shower, and go to sleep._

_And that's what he does. He and Rick get cleaned up, and then he crawls into his bed. Rick doesn't ask permission to slip beneath the sheets next to him. He just does, lying a foot or so away from Negan, on his side. His big eyes scan the larger man's face. Negan notices he's not trying to speak--he's just staring, and he eventually brings a hand down to rest it on Negan's forearm._

_Negan is the one to break the silence._

_"...You're making it hard to sleep with that stone-cold fucking stare of yours, Rick." He observes aloud, and for the briefest of moments, Rick looks sheepish. His grip on Negan's forearm only strengthens, though. "What're you thinking about?"_

_Rick shakes his head. "It's stupid."_

_"And probably emotional, because that's just how you are." Negan laughs. "But I didn't ask for you to bullshit around about it. Fucking tell me, Rick."_

_"It's just," Rick frowns, "you almost died. Y'know how they say your life flashes before your eyes right before you die?"_

_Negan just laughs at him as he scoots in close, curling an arm around Rick's waist and pulling him in for a hug. "I didn't see shit. At all. Too many dead fuckers understandably trying to get a piece of me. First coherent thought I had was 'holy shit, Rick's tearing those assholes to hell!'"_

_Rick pauses, but smiles soon enough. "You're stupid. And you're ruinin' the moment."_

_"This is supposed to be a moment?" Negan cocks an eyebrow. When Rick shoves him, he just laughs, though, and pulls the other man in close. His chest flutters, and he finds himself compelled to press a kiss to Rick's temple._

_Rick doesn't seem to mind. He sure doesn't pull away from their current embrace. They fall asleep wrapped up in one another, ever closer._

\- - - - -

Negan raises his remaining hand to his forehead and closes the fingers, blunt nails trailing red welts along the flesh of his forehead as he does so. Rick's in his own room, probably either frustrated or confused. And for good reason. Negan's honestly got no business talking to Rick the way he has as of late. He's always had a penchant for sarcasm and vulgarity, but the words are never meant to damage those he cares about.

At least they weren't, until Negan's mind lost its fucking shit and he started thinking he needed to create some distance between himself and Rick. It sure hasn't taken him long to waver right back on that, but Rick's words hang heavy in his mind regardless.

_"You might want me gone, but I'm not goin' anywhere until I know for sure I'm not welcome anymore."_

He's here to stay. And frankly, Negan wouldn't have him any other way. It's selfish, but there's this part of him--this tiny fragment all buried in Negan's harsh attitude as of late--that still just wants Rick to stay right there. To insist that he's not leaving, and to demand that Negan fix his shit and take him for who he is.

And who he is is...loyal, dedicated, brave, important, so very precious to Negan's heart.

His throat clenches as the guilt seeps in thicker than blood through gauze. He shouldn't do this. He shouldn't be doing this. Pushing Rick away is just as selfish as Rick telling Negan he was going to be the one to die. What they need here is the same as it has always been: each other.

He wants to get up off of his fucking bed and track Rick right back down, but even he knows that Rick needs his space right now. After what happened, he doesn't blame the guy. Somehow, he knows that if he were to show up at Rick's door, the guy would let him in...but it isn't fair. Right now, he's just going to let Rick breathe.

He'll talk to him when Rick said they would talk--after therapy.

In the end, Rick shows back up, though he doesn't say a word. He just crawls into bed, slides his arms around Negan's frame, and buries his face in the nape of his neck. They both know it's because they're used to sleeping close together by now, and that after so long being in a hospital bed, they're both starved for affection.

They don't talk. Negan doesn't turn to face him. He just sighs and leans back into the contact, and then lets sleep take him.

\- - - - -

_Is this the definitive moment?_

_In all honesty, Negan isn't certain there ever has been a moment when he just up and realized how he felt about Rick Grimes. Hell, for all he knows, he's felt this way from the very beginning--the instant his eyes met those blue ones and Rick told him how good the shower in that police station stall had felt._

_But right now, he's blissfully aware of it. He and Rick are lying face-to-face in his bed, and he's awakened in the middle of the night after a peaceful sleep. Less than twenty four hours ago, he and Rick had almost become the meals of a whole herd of undead. Negan still hears the cracking of the branches and the snarls of the dead ones as they swarmed in on him when he fell._

_And he still sees the fire in Rick's eyes as he jumped right into the horde to save him. Swinging Lucille like she was an extension of him, he had taken out enemy after enemy until Negan could get to his feet and join him in the struggle._

_Oh, how he loves this man. Rick sleeps soundly in Negan's embrace, and for some ungodly reason, Negan has been pulled back into consciousness. He uses that consciousness to take in the sight of the man's face while he sleeps. How his hair, which has gotten long since Negan had met him, falls down in curly strands across his forehead. His hand, bunched up close to his face, twitches every so often, and his lips just barely hang open._

_Negan resists the urge to touch those lips. How easy it would be to brush his thumb along the lower one, or to lean in and press a kiss to them. And the more explicit side of Negan wants to joke about the other things those lips could probably do. Maybe one day, he supposes. But right now...goddamn, right now...there's nothing he could ever bring himself to do to destroy the pretty picture that is Rick Fucking Grimes right now._

_He's so lucky. So very lucky. First, Lucille, who stayed with him even with the knowledge that he was cheating on her. And then, Rick. Loyal Rick. Rick, who taught him what sticking together meant. Rick, who's still here, and probably always will be._

_Rick, who he loves so very much._

_Negan closes his eyes under this knowledge, sinks in closer, and lets his eyes fall shut after his forehead comes into contact with Rick's. He laughs to himself, because he was just giving Rick hell about creating a moment not too long ago, and here he is, stealing one of his own._

_\- - - - -_

When Negan awakens, he's on his back in his bed. The sun beats into his room through the windows, and he raises his hand to redirect the vicious rays. With some effort, he pushes himself into a sitting position. "Fuck...really gotta work on getting some curtains in here. Rick, you awake...?"

It's then that he realizes Rick isn't in the room with him. He doesn't hear the shower running, either. For the first time since he lost his arm, Negan gets ready for the day on his own.

He emerges from his room clad in his favorite outfit, though the right sleeve of his jacket is torn midway through the upper arm. He doesn't pay it much mind, though. Instead, he focuses on making his way out and away from the living quarters.

He finds Simon and Dwight loading up a truck with supplies outside.

"...Going on a run, boys?" He questions. If one ignores the missing right arm, he almost looks like he's back to normal, though without Lucille balanced on his shoulder, that doesn't help much.

"Oh shit, hey!" Simon grins. "You're looking better, boss. Good to see you in commission again!"

"Feels good to fucking be back." Negan's doing well, all things considered. Physical therapy has been helping. He's got to get to that, by the way, once he finds Rick. "You guys seen Rick?"

Simon and Dwight exchange confused glances, and Negan suddenly feels cold.

"...He didn't tell you?" Dwight questions.

"...Excuse me?" Negan frowns.

"He left. Said he had to go on a quick run--he'd be back before the day was up or some shit like that."

No, Dwight. No, Rick had most certainly _not_ told Negan that.

Where in the fuck did he _go?_!

The most alarming part of the whole thing is that Negan knows Rick well enough to know that the guy wouldn't leave for good--not after promising to help Negan with his therapy. Rick is too loyal, too honest. He knows the guy will come back, but leaving by himself? What the fuck is Rick _thinking_?

It doesn't take long for Negan to decide that he's going out to find the guy before a herd or a large group of survivors happen upon him. At the very least, he's smart enough to take Dwight and Simon along with him.

 


	7. Chapter 7

_Negan doesn't remember who started it, but he's definitely feeling it now. There's blood coming from both his nostrils and a split in his upper lip, and his chest and arms and ribs ache something unmerciful. It's the result of one hell of a fist fight, and even though he had been angry during the fight, he's just laughing now. All he can think about is how fun the whole thing had been, and when he turns to regard the one he's been fighting, the big grin on his bloodied face says the same._

_The guy calls himself 'Simon'. He's the former leader of a group of fourteen. They're all decently well-rounded people, and Negan, Rick, and his people happened upon them midway to Virginia. At first, it had been a competition over property, but soon enough, Negan had offered to assimilate their groups._

_Of course, offering to do so had its conditions. The primary was that Simon relinquish his position as leader and let Negan and Rick take over the role of being the boss. Of course, he'd be allowed to oversee certain things, but he wouldn't be the big cheese anymore._

_Simon wasn't agreeable, and guns had initially been raised. But charismatic leader met charismatic leader and they attempted to discuss this like adults. Negan told Rick to watch over their group while Simon instructed one of his men to do the same for his own, and they stole away a couple blocks down the little township they were in to engage in discussion._

_Which escalated into a fist fight, which has them both on their asses on the ground now, laughing hard. Simon wipes at his mustache with the back of his hand, smearing more blood than he's actually removing. Regardless, he turns his attention to Negan once more._

_"You have a mean right hook, you know that?" Simon points out. "Like you spent your pre-infection days wailing on a punching bag...or masturbating. All of the above?"_

_Negan shrugs. "A little of both, but mostly ping pong. I could fucking smash you at that shit."_

_"Ping pong?" Simon scoffs. "Uncool, man."_

_"Shit, you don't even know." Negan retorts. "Unpopular, maybe, but not uncool. You let this fucker show you how it's done, and you'll see the light so vividly that you'll start having erotic dreams involving ping pong tables and having your ass paddled into submission."_

_There's a long pause, before Simon's eyebrows both fly up into his forehead and he just bursts out laughing. "That...is one vivid imagination. And it also kind of makes me wonder what you've done with a ping pong table other than play games on it."_

_"Hmph." Negan punches Simon hard in the shoulder--a gesture that seems oddly friendly between both men. "Not a chance. Do you know how flimsy one of those tables are? It's next to impossible to get your dick into someone on that thing without ending up on the floor."_

_It's the start of a beautiful friendship, and whether there's any actual agreement on their assimilation or not remains unclear. They just...start traveling together, and the Sanctuary has fourteen more residents than they anticipated. Admittedly, with plenty of room, but fourteen more nonetheless._

_Simon's always proven himself important, though._

_\- - - - -_

"You're an idiot." Negan can feel Simon's footsteps, hot behind his own, as he follows him into the armory. He doesn't care, though. At this point, he's already got his mind made up.

"Yeah, well," Negan responds, "he's an idiot, too. He's gonna fucking get himself killed."

At the very least, Negan can take some comfort in the fact that Simon knows he's not going to talk him out of it. It shows in the way the guy takes the holster Negan's fighting with and helps him buckle it around his waist. A thigh holster is offered to him and he does the same, but not without retort, of course. "He just knows better than to drag your gimpy ass along right now. You know recovery from amputation takes literally months, right? And that's under circumstances where you have proper access to healthcare."

"Ask me if I give a fuck later." Negan growls, though he does offer Simon a nod of appreciation for helping him, before he shoves a pistol into one holster and a knife into the other.

"He's a tough guy, Negan." Simon looks more serious than Negan has ever seen him before, which compels him to listen. Doesn't mean he's going to comply, though. "If he didn't think he could make it out there, I don't think he'd go. He's got all of us--he would've asked us to go with him if he needed us."

"Exactly." Negan says simply, tearing out of the armory. He's got the full intention of using whatever supplies Simon and Dwight had been loading up for the trip. Considering they're going with him, he doesn't feel the need to waste time gathering up new ones. "Either he's stupid enough to think he can go out there independently or he for whatever reason didn't want you guys tagging along."

"Okay." Simon shrugs. "So he knows he can handle himself. Wait--do you actually think he's taking off for good? Negan, are you out of your mind?"

"Of course I don't think he's leaving for good." Negan grunts. By now, he and Simon are on their way out to where most of the cars are parked. He's got to know what kind of vehicle Rick took off with. "And frankly, I don't give a flying fuck impaled on a cactus barb whether he he did or not. I'm still gonna go get him back."

"No, you're still gonna try," Simon exhales frustratedly, "and you're gonna get yourself killed. You've got one arm and a still-healing amputation, dumbass."

"I'm fine." Negan rounds on him, eyes narrowed. "Look, Rick might think he's got his shit covered out there, but he _doesn't_. He's good against a handful of the dead fuckers, but if he gets caught up in a herd or runs into someone who isn't dead, that's a different story. He might as well sign his goddamned death certificate and draw a smiley face on it at that point."

He makes a beeline for the one in charge of vehicle inventory, and once he's got the information he needs, waves the woman off and leaves. Everyone seems glad to see Negan back in action, and she's no different. She wishes him good luck as he rejoins Simon and starts back toward the vehicle the man and Dwight had been about to leave in.

It isn't until they start clambering into the vehicle that Simon speaks up again. "Why not just send us? You don't have to go."

"Yes, I do." Negan bites back stubbornly. "This is just what Rick and I do."

"You chase each other around?" The tone in Simon's voice tells Negan he's getting irritated. Good for him.

"No." Negan narrows his eyes. "We just don't do shit apart. Take the northern route." He gruffly gestures the direction with his one arm.

At the very least, Simon decides to leave it at that. Negan knows he's right in the logical sense. Regardless of whether Simon and Dwight go along, Negan is stupid to go out there, himself. Even though he's doing much better physically, he's still on the mend, and if he isn't careful, he could not only put himself in danger, but he could put his accomplices in danger with him.

But to Negan, that just means he's going to have to work harder to protect himself, so that no one else has to do it for him.

\- - - - -

Negan honestly has a good idea where Rick's gone off to. It doesn't make sense that he'd just take himself out on a run alone, regardless of any argument he and Negan might have had the previous day. He's clearly gone off to find Lucille, because that's just the way his brain works. Rick senses that Negan misses his prized baseball bat, so he goes out to find her.

Negan might be attached to the memory of his late wife, but he knows better than to prioritize a damned bat named after her over Rick. Yeah, he feels like a part of him is missing without Lucille, but it's a tiny fragment compared to the part that's missing in the wake of the _actual_ Lucille, and Rick going missing takes away an even bigger part. Negan doesn't know whether he's going to sock the hell out of Rick or hug the shit out of him, but he does know that the guy's in for something when he does find him.

Not _if_.

_When._

"There's a house down this way." Negan motions for Dwight to turn them down onto a country road--the same one he and Rick had traveled down all those weeks ago. "It's where Rick and I were when that jackass took my fucking arm."

"I know some of the way there." Dwight admits. "We met Rick about halfway when he started radioing for help."

"So why there?" Simon questions, an eyebrow cocked.

Negan sighs, fiddling with his knife. "I went off on Rick last night. Bit his fucking head off because he brought up Lucille." He doesn't have to look up to know that Simon and Dwight both know what he's getting at already. "He was pretty pissed at me for flying off the handle at him, but under all that cold exterior, Rick's a big ass bleeding heart. Probably made the decision last night to set out by his fucking self and get her back."

Simon sighs, and Negan feels him gently elbow him in the side. "Doesn't surprise me. The guy's got some sort of internal radar for your emotions, you know. This isn't the first time he's been this quick to try and please you."

Negan mirrors his sigh and slides his knife back into the holser, moving his hand to scrub at the back of his head. "Trust me, I know."

Looking back, Negan supposes others have a pretty general idea on how close he and Rick have always been. Taking the lead together, defending one another against the words of other people living at the Sanctuary, and Negan's got no doubt in his mind that they know the two men often share Negan's room together. It's borderline romantic, and hell, maybe it _is_ romantic. They just haven't crossed that last threshold yet.

Negan's a pretty sexual being, but for some reason, he's...okay with what he and Rick have. Would he be upset if things got to that level? Fuck no. But there's this reassurance between them--this knowledge that things are fine how they are, and that whatever happens is going to happen.

Except this whole 'Rick disappearing' thing. Negan's not just gonna let that one happen.

\- - - - -

_"Snakes?"_

_"Yep."_

_"Somehow, I'm not surprised." Rick doesn't look impressed, but Negan's sure proud of the decorations he's managed to get his hands on for his room. There are various portraits of snakes hanging up on the gray walls now, and it actually looks pretty damned good with the gray comforter he's found for his bed. Complete with Negan's usual leather jacket and biker-esque getup, it probably looks a little stereotypical, but so fucking what? It's the end of the world, not a fashion show._

_"Could you really picture anything different?" Negan questions, that prideful smirk still on his face, and Rick just laughs._

_"I guess not. But you're not all cliches, though." He thinks aloud. "Never would've pegged you the type to be any good at ping pong."_

_"Not a lot of people do." Negan smirks. "In your defense, you've never played the shit, so I'm not surprised I dragged your ass clean up and down that miniature court."_

_Rick ignores that comment, and instead moves to take down the pictures, stacking them atop Negan's bed._

_"Uh, Rick." Negan frowns. "...The fuck do you think you're doing?"_

_"Rearrangin'." Rick shrugs, his gaze circling the room. "Lori used to have me do it all the time--I guess I was better at it than her."_

_And maybe he was. Either way, Negan's dumbstruck as Rick somehow manages to find a perfect place for every admittedly-gaudy portrait he's got, and it actually looks damn good. When Rick finishes, he plants his hands on his hips in satisfaction and turns to face Negan. "...Well?"_

_Negan grins and whistles lowly. "It's damn good, Rick. You never cease to fucking amaze."_

_\- - - - -_

They reach the house just in time for it to start fucking pissing down rain. Negan leads the way, with Simon and Dwight acting as cover. The entrance to the house is still wide open, with the door lying on the ground where Negan and Rick had left it. That probably means the place is uninhabited, which Negan takes some relief in. If Rick really did come back for Lucille, then he didn't have to worry about fighting more than probably a couple of infected in the process.

As Negan steps over the door, however, he's point-blank stricken by a sensation that he doesn't ever recall feeling before. It's almost like being dizzy, and when he looks down at the door to try and remind himself where the ground is, he catches sight of a few red droplets. Blood droplets.

...His blood?

_"C'mon...Stay with me, Negan...! Wake up!"_

"Hey." A hand on Negan's shoulder pulls him out of a stupor he hadn't even realized he'd slipped into. Dwight is frowning at him. "You okay?"

Negan shrugs him off, nodding. "I'm fine." He follows the path he and Rick had initially taken, nodding for the other two men to accompany him into the kitchen.

The room stinks to high heaven of death. There's blood everywhere, and Negan somehow knows it's not all his own. There are two bodies on the ground on one side of the island, unmoving, not even undead. Fresh knife wounds on the side of their skulls tell Negan why.

"Rick's been here." Negan hopes aloud.

"Don't think he stayed, do you?" Simon questions.

"No telling." Negan answers as he rounds the island. The rest of the bodies are nowhere to be seen--Lewis' included--and Negan freezes when he sees the gray, rotted remains of his severed arm lying on the ground. He stares into the puddles of blood surrounding it, suddenly nauseated, and then sprints to the sink, where he heaves into the metal basin.

"Shit...Negan what's..." Simon questions, moving quickly to Negan's side, but when he sees what the larger man saw, his voice dies in his throat. "...Oh, _fuck_."

"...That's yours." Dwight chokes.

They're all more than a little disgusted with the sight, and it's for good reason. The limb isn't just dead--it's infested. Like a carcass on the side of the road, flies surround the thing, and if that isn't a fucking wake-up call, Negan has no idea what is.

He's never going to have a right arm again. None of this is a dream. It's all real, and when Negan wakes up in the morning, it's gonna be with one fucking arm, from now on.

As he leans into the sink, Negan lets his mind wander again. If he thinks hard enough, he can hear Rick screaming, and the faint sound of metal slamming hard up against flesh. Chains rattling, metal sawing on metal, the rip of clothes.

Rick's voice.

_"Shit...Oh, shit! Negan--NO! NEGAN! H...Hold on, I can just....I can bind it. I have to get help...!"_

"Boss!" This time, it's Simon who snaps Negan out of it. He imagines he looks pretty pale and sickly as he turns his head to regard the other man. Simon breathes a sigh of relief. "There you are. I said your name like four times."

Negan shakes his head, trying to rid his mind of Rick's screams. It doesn't help that the other man is currently missing. It sucks majorly that he can't just turn, look at Rick, and see that he's not actually screaming. Why couldn't the guy have waited to go on a Lucille rescue mission? Negan could really use him right now.

"Sorry." He leans back on the counter and cards his fingers through his hair. "I thought I'd blacked out after that asshole took my arm, but it's like I keep remembering shit. Guess I was in and out."

"What're you remembering?" Negan can hear the curiosity in Simon's voice. He wants to tell him not to ask questions, but seeing as he dragged the guy and poor Dwight along for this mess, he figures he owes at least a little bit of an explanation.

"Just...little bits and pieces." Negan finally answers. He squeezes his eyes shut, and the screams finally ebb away. "I don't remember the whole fucking thing, but I know Rick was real goddamned scared...trying to stop the bleeding and calling for help and shit."

"Sherry was the one who heard him radio in." Dwight thinks aloud. "She said he sounded pretty freaked out. Guess I would've been, too. Guy starts bleeding out in front of me, I'd lose my damn marbles."

Negan nods, but brushes the rest of the conversation away. He glances toward the counter where Lucille had been the last time he had seen her. She's not there anymore, not surprisingly. He motions to the bodies on the ground. "Those stabs on their heads look fresh, and Lucille's gone from where I last saw her. Not much to fucking go by, but it kind of looks like Rick's gotten his hands on Lucille and decided to get the fuck out of Dodge. Let's secure the upstairs, make sure he isn't hiding up there, and if not, we'll see if we can track him down."

Simon and Dwight exchange glances, but nod for Negan to lead the way regardless.

It's during the search that Negan realizes a lot of things. The first is that while there were five men on that night (not including Rick and himself), there are only two bodies in the kitchen. The blood surrounding the two bodies and Negan's arm, as well as the area he remembers collapsing onto, that's all there is. Which means that three of them got away. Lewis got away.

The next is that Rick is nowhere in this house. Negan starts out moving quietly enough, but the anxiety tears at him, and after deciding that he, Simon, and Dwight can take any attackers, he outright screams for Rick. He checks the closets, the hideaway bed, the halls, under beds, and even the garage, but finds no one. If Rick really has come and gone, he's left no trail of his presence.

And if Rick hasn't been the one to do it, it's always within the realm of possibility that Lewis and his guys managed to make it out. Negan still has no clue exactly how many people he had, after all. The thought of that fucker having Lucille (and maybe Rick) makes Negan so angry that his arm is starting to burn again, beneath the heat of the rage building just under the bottom layer of his skin.

Once the area is secure, Dwight tugs open the upstairs balcony door and sits right in the doorway while he smokes. It's still pouring outside. Simon has located a box to dump the water bottles from the fridge into, and Negan lets him do the dirty work while he retreats back downstairs. This time, he avoids the kitchen like a plague and instead makes his way into the hallway where the bathroom is. He knows the area has already been searched, but he can't stop himself.

The bathroom is long, with another closet directly inside of it. In said closet, there are still some folded towels and dusty bottles of half-used shampoo and shower gel. A few bath toys line one of the lower shelves. Negan disregards them, though he does go ahead and grab the toiletries. He makes for the shower and pushes the curtain back. It's strangely disappointing when he looks inside and doesn't see so much as a corpse.

Thunder claps loudly and Negan jumps. He curses and launches the bag he's been stuffing things into across the room. The smell of shampoo fills the bathroom, and he just stomps right on out.

The wind is blowing violently through the gaping front doorway at this point, howling as it does so. Big rain droplets pepper the entranceway and the door on the ground in front of it. Negan scowls, raises his hand and a middle finger to the offending weather, and then storms upstairs.

He feels like a sitting duck. All they got out of this trip so far is bottled water and a few memories. Negan has no clue where Rick is, and the torrential downpour is going to keep them stranded here for however fucking long it cares to linger. Sure, they could probably get out on the road again, but the rain is coming down so hard that it'd be impossible to see anything in more than the direct vicinity. They're going to need a lot more visibility to search for Rick's car.

So, frustrated, Negan heads back up the stairs. By now, Simon's sitting on the couch, and Dwight's asleep half-on a bean bag chair near the balcony door. He's just barely got the door open now--enough to let some fresh air in but not get soaked by the downpour.

Simon looks up, noticing that his leader has returned, and pats the couch for him to sit down. Considering there's nothing better to do right now, Negan obeys. He leans back against the cushions and closes his eyes, releasing a sigh he didn't realize he'd been withholding.

"Find anything good?" Simon dares to ask, and Negan shakes his head.

"Not a damn thing. But Rick and I tore this place apart the last time we were here."

Simon pauses. "I'm sure you did. So why'd you go downstairs, then?"

"Do I need to explain every fucking step I take to you, Simon?" Negan pops one eye open, before he lets it close again. "...Just needed a minute, I guess."

Simon gets it, Negan knows he does. Simon knows Negan second best, after Rick. Many ping pong games and beers and oddly long talks following meetings with other Saviors have ensured that fact.

His voice is soft as he breaks the silence. "This is really hard on you, isn't it?"

Negan's words surprise even himself. "It's not about me."

Simon's laugh is strangely reassuring. "...Man, you really are all over that guy, aren't you?"

A long inhale, and an even longer exhale precede Negan's response. He turns his head and regards Simon completely, both eyes open, albeit lazily. "World doesn't make any fucking sense without him. The most embarrassing part is that it hasn't even been a day since I last saw him, and I'm out of my goddamned skull worrying about him."

"I don't blame you." Simon shrugs. "To be honest, I've been surprised ever since you and I met that the two of you haven't already tied the knot."

"The knot?" Negan laughs gruffly. "As in marriage? Shit doesn't make sense anymore. Besides, after Lucille died, I'm done with marriage."

Simon grins. "I bet he'd say yes."

Negan isn't sure if Simon's actually trying to make him think, but he does. He'd all but proposed to Rick so long ago, and Rick had accepted without a second thought. What's the difference between right-hand man and marriage, anyway? The commitment's already there, but so is the unhealthy dependency.

Goddamn, _that_ fucking fear is still there.

"You should sleep." Simon suggests. "I'll take watch."

At first, Negan doesn't think he can sleep. His mind is racing too quickly, and with Rick nowhere to be found, he doesn't feel right even so much as taking a catnap. But Simon's words serve as a subtle reassurance that he won't let Rick slip out of Negan's grasp--that if something were to happen, he would make damn sure Negan knew, no matter how deeply he slept. Besides, the time between this godawful storm and being able to get back on the road would pass that much more quickly with a little sleep.

It comes much easier than Negan initially thinks.

\- - - - -

A loud metallic crash pulls Negan back to the present. He sits upright, orthostatic hypotension be damned, and collapses right back onto the couch when his vision goes black. Simon helps him to his feet, though, and they race for the balcony. Dwight's already at the edge. The noise has come from a vehicle crashing into one of the large trees the driveway circles, and Negan recognizes with a sickening weight in his stomach that that very same vehicle is the one he had been told Rick had taken off with. The tire tracks tell Negan that Rick came flying into the driveway too quickly, hydroplaned on a patch of muddy gravel, and crashed into the tree.

Dizziness doesn't even matter at this point. Negan's heading down the stairs regardless of any discomfort. Rick's down there, and he could be dead, and Negan just has to _know_.

He's still battling with the sleep in his eyes when Rick crawls out of the smoking vehicle. He's got a big swollen red mark on his cheek and a skinned left forearm, but he appears to be alright. Negan immediately races to help him to his feet, using his one arm to pull Rick's arm over his shoulders. He helps the smaller man limp away, before they both collapse to the ground about fifty feet from the car.

"Negan...what the hell?!" Rick pants, shoving him.

Negan just shoves back. "I'm gonna ask you the same fucking thing once we get out of here."

Rick's expression suddenly hardens. "Yeah, out of here's a good idea." The roaring of multiple vehicle engines tells Negan why. "We're about to be outnumbered."

At least Negan now knows why Rick came speeding into the driveway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The snake thing is a nod to a post on tumblr, observing how Negan's room seems to be decorated with pictures of snakes. I tried to find it, but couldn't. If I do locate it, this will be edited to include the link because it's amazing.
> 
> I've pretty much decided this thing is going to be 16 chapters, but I probably won't change that on the fic post, just in case something pops up or I decide to cut something out that changes that.
> 
> Anywho, hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, even though I've already tagged the fic as such: this chapter gets pretty intense when it comes to fighting and Rick's dark side. It's just a wee bit gory. 
> 
> I don't think I've ever written a fight scene this detailed before. Hope it comes across alright! Thanks again everyone for reading!

It's still raining out.

It's not coming down as hard as it was earlier, but the intensity of the situation around Negan sure makes him feel like he's still caught up in a goddamned downpour. His earlier observation of Rick not being injured has been shot down by now by the fact that something's wrong with his leg. Neither of them have gotten the time to discern what exactly that is, however, because there are four cars pulling in, all taking 'corners' of the circular driveway.

Not that that's going to stop any of them. They all know they can pull out in the ditch if that's what they have to do, but damn.

Negan doesn't have time to count exactly how many people clamber out of the vehicles, but he does know that there are more than ten. They're all armed, and they swoop in on their victims like vultures, keeping just enough distance to make their prey nervous.

Negan's unable to use his hand right now, as he's supporting Rick. Rick's got one hand around Negan's waist and the other now rests atop the revolver in its holster. He knows the smaller man's ready to attack, even with Negan's grip on him.

"You seriously thought you could do all this alone, huh?" Negan bites, but Rick doesn't answer. Instead, he focuses on the man who climbs out of the car closest to them. Negan recognizes him instantly. Even though the right side of his face is brutally disfigured and that same eye is milky and gray with blindness, Negan will never forget that face. The one that belongs to the man who took his arm away from him.

He narrows his eyes, and he can feel the same cold stare emanating from Rick, whose grip on his waist tightens almost painfully.

"You've done enough." Rick growls, words focused at Lewis, who scowls forward at him.

"Have I?" Lewis retorts. "Because I don't really feel like I have."

"Do you know how pathetic you sound right now?" Negan cuts in. "People are gonna die in today's world--that's just how it is. You can't fucking get over that, you might as well be dead, yourself."

"Yeah?" Lewis asks. He raises both hands, and his people aim their guns at Rick. "And if I killed your boyfriend here, what would you do?"

Negan suddenly sees it again--those flashback-things he saw inside the house. This time, he's sitting on the ground, staring through blurred vision up at Rick and Lewis, who are engaged in a fist fight. Rick's somehow broken the chains cuffing his hands and now, he's laying into Lewis' face, handcuffs dancing wildly around his wrists as he tears into his cheek and chin and eye. With every hit comes a scream of fury, before Lewis drops to the ground, ducks away from Rick, and takes off.

_"Go, go! We'll figure something out later!"_

The snap back to reality comes on its own this time, and when Negan is back in the present, his heart is in his throat. Lewis is rambling on about how he has every damn right to be furious about what happened, and if people are going to die, it's going to be the ones who deserve it. When Negan glances over to see how Rick's taking it all, he's proud to see an expression of cold resolve on the man's face. The same resolve he saw so many weeks ago. He still wants Lewis dead.

Negan casts looks to both Simon and Dwight, who have their guns up and pointed at Lewis.

"You're outnumbered." Lewis reminds plainly. "Might as well put the guns down."

"That's not gonna happen." Rick snaps back, in that self-assured, gravely voice of his. Negan wants to look over at him and figure out what he's thinking about, but instead, he just narrows his eyes and stares forward, waiting for the next move.

Which is a surprising one, but Negan should know better than to let it get to him. Rick's always been a surprising kind of guy.

"We've got a community back home--we're over a hundred people by now." Rick starts, and Lewis frowns. "We operate on a points system--you do your part, you live good. Can't say I've seen many groups capable of livin' like that since this mess all started."

"Get to the point." A woman from the crowd insists, and Rick does just that.

"It's simple. Any of you who want to leave this joker before I kill him are welcome to join us. Either way, it doesn't matter to me. He's gonna die, no matter what you all do."

Lewis raises both eyebrows, and it's as he steps forward that the shit hits the fan. He's got a pistol instead of a machete this time, which he whips out while he advances on Rick and Negan. "Alright, that's enough--"

A gunshot pierces the sound of rain, and in its wake, Lewis drops to one knee on the ground, bleeding from a wound on his other leg. Negan and Rick don't pay attention to who fired the shot--they just get moving. They separate fluidly and Negan fires in one direction, while Rick shoots in the other. Negan's first shot hits the chest of a man trying to follow his movements. He hears Simon and Dwight joining in, and before he knows what's happened, three of the attackers are dead.

Gunfire erupts around them at this point. Negan holsters his weapon and snatches Rick by the shoulder, tugging him toward the house. He hefts that arm back over his shoulder in a hurry so he can help the smaller man run, but before either of them can get too far, a violent impact on Negan's right side sends both himself and Rick crashing to the ground, landing hard on the gravel.

It's then that Negan realizes how right Simon was when he'd pointed out that he wasn't fully recovered. His right shoulder and the tiny remainder of his arm sear so painfully that he can't bring himself to focus on the present. He's fighting to keep the pain from making him black out, vision bouncing back and forth between Rick and Lewis.

"...Fucking...not yet." Negan yet again finds himself in a battle with unconsciousness. He struggles to move, shaking his head violently or slamming a fisted left hand against the gravel. It hurts like hell, but the adrenaline rush is helping to bring him back to the present. Rick and Lewis are currently exchanging hits, rolling around in the gravel. Rick's bleeding from somewhere on his face, and Negan only barely sees it out of his quivering periphery when Rick is yanked to the side and a few droplets fly into the air from the sheer force alone.

It's when Lewis swings hard and clocks Rick right in the face that Negan forces himself up and throws that right shoulders as hard as he can into the man's side. The white-haired fucker goes flying, and Negan just grabs Rick, yanks him up by the shirt, and they amble their ways into the house. The gunfire behind them tells Negan that Simon and Dwight are still in their standoff. Negan only looks over his shoulder long enough to make sure the two men are alive, before they're moving as quickly as they can up that narrow stairwell and to the second floor.

"Please tell me you have more guns." Rick spits blood onto the floor as he checks his revolver. The look on his face tells Negan he doesn't have much left.

"Yeah." Negan nods. "That blind motherfucker ought to be coming up here any minute, so I'll cover you. You take 'em out from the balcony." Yeah, he knows that Rick wants to be the one to finish Lewis off, but that's not happening at the moment. Negan can't fire an assault rifle with one hand, which leaves him with his pistol--a gun better used closer up.

"Don't kill him." Rick orders as Negan passes him an assault rifle from the bag Simon and Dwight had packed. They separate and Rick jerks the sliding balcony door open, limping his way out. "Don't care if you leave him clingin' to the last strand of his life--I just get to flip the killswitch."

"Whatever the fuck you say." Negan teases. "I'll give you the spotlight this time."

Negan lingers at Rick's side while he waits for their assailant's inevitable arrival. He casts glances between looking over the balcony and peering into the upstairs living room. A shot is fired with his pistol to the men down below, just barely stopping one man from taking Dwight out. The blond focuses on finishing the job, and Negan wheels around.

Yep. There he is. Negan knows his type by now. Lewis doesn't even care if he lives or dies at this point--he just wants to get something out of it before he goes. As if Rick's injuries and Negan's missing arm aren't enough. Judging by how many people have been taken out at this point, Negan assumes their numbers are about even. And considering they'd managed to drop those numbers to that point, he ventures a guess that Lewis and his people are now screwed.

Lewis can barely walk. Below the knee of his left leg is heavily-soaked in thick crimson, and Negan wishes he had Lucille so he could bash that limb right the fuck off. His face is even more marred after his brawl with Rick, and he walks like Igor, back arched and everything.

He doesn't even speak. Just shuffles his way over to Negan, like a hopeless drunkard. Negan takes a step back, rears that left arm up, and socks him hard. The force is enough that it knocks him off balance, and they both tumble to the carpet.

Negan rolls, straddling the man before he can do anything to protest. His left hand finds Lewis' throat all-too-easily.

"You lose, fuckwad." Negan sneers, narrowing his eyes down at the quivering pulp of a man lying down beneath him. "But before you die, I've got a To-Do list I feel compelled to share with your dead ass. First and foremost--Get Rick back. Which I've already done. Second, get Lucille back. Oh, you probably don't know her." He cocks his head to the side, nostrils flaring in fury. "She's that bat you fucks so kindly stole from me. I'm gonna have to take her back, now. Where is she?"

Somehow--Negan doesn't know exactly how--Lewis manages to spit right in his face. This catches him off guard enough for the man to find the nearest object he can reach--a book from a little shelf near the couch--and clock Negan right in the temple with it.

For the second time today, Negan is struggling to remain conscious. He feels sick to his stomach, but manages to hold down what's left in it when he sees Rick disappear from the balcony altogether in favor of smacking the butt of his gun hard into Lewis' forehead.

Wordlessly, Rick shoots Negan an apologetic glance, but Negan just waves him off. He's at his limit, here. He just lets Rick take the reins and trusts that Simon and Dwight have it covered downstairs.

Lewis is barely there now, himself. Rick moves to stand over him, one leg on either side of his torso. Whatever injury he'd incurred during his car wreck, he's either ignoring or has successfully managed to walk off. It's difficult to tell, and frankly, Negan doesn't care. All that matters right now is the malice in Rick's cold, pale blue gaze.

"I killed Nathaniel because he _deserved it_." Rick sneers. "He killed my wife...my son. Sooner you realize I reacted the way I should have, the better. Or not, because I'm gonna kill you." He swings the butt of the gun down hard on Lewis' stomach.

Lewis coughs up blood, but Rick doesn't pay it any mind. He drops down to his knees and flips the rifle around, so that he's got the barrel of it pointed down. "And I'm not only gonna kill you--I'm gonna make it damned painful." He nods to Negan, who doesn't move either. He's watching intently, honestly not sure what Rick's going to do. "That guy over there? That's my _life_. You took away somethin' very important to him, and you're gonna pay for that."

Negan's seen Rick do a lot of things, but he's never seen him pushed quite to this level. It's almost as if the loss of Negan's arm drew Rick himself close to the brink of insanity. Or maybe it's just the simple fact that he came so close to dying. Negan knows how reckless he'd have been if the tables had been turned. Either way, Rick looks terrifying. He stares Lewis down with a gaze like a drill. That fire Negan's seen licking at him before? He _is_ that fire now.

The barrel of Rick's gun slides down along Lewis' injured leg until Rick manages to feel out the entrance wound with it. He pushes down, expression unchanging as Lewis lets out a garbled cry of pain, the blood lingering in the back of his throat. He coughs and splutters again, likely choking on his own blood.

He pulls the trigger and Lewis outright screams. When Rick stands up, he rolls over to his side and vomits blood onto the floor. Rick kicks him hard. One, two, three kicks later, and he backs up, switches to his revolver, and fires right into the man's throat.

And like that, he's left to bleed out, as Rick moves to tumble forward onto the ground next to Negan.

He's somehow content with everything going black at that point.

\- - - - -

_It's only been a couple of months since Rick and Negan met, and they're already connected at the hip. They've slowly been rounding up other people to join their group, but in the end, it's just the two of them. It'll always just be the two of them._

_They've found an old subway station and managed to close off a few of the cars. Until the herd thins, they're confined there. Negan knows they should have stayed on the outskirts of town, but that doesn't stop them from being stuck here now. The other men seem content to stop and rest for the night within the train cars anyway, so that's all that matters._

_Rick and Negan occupy the first car, having cleaned off the long seats and dropped their bags directly next to each one. Negan's staring out the window at the shambles of the subway station, but he can feel Rick's stare on him._

_"What?" He asks, not bothering to glance over at the other man._

_Rick's come a long way since Negan first found him. They're a fantastic team, and it's difficult to tell Rick was ever injured by those assholes from his old group. He's strong, fast, intuitive, perceptive, and incredibly loyal to Negan. He's always covering him, always warning him of incoming danger, and always ready to drop a few bullets for him._

_He's everything Negan's ever wanted in a partner in crime._

_"The bat." Rick answers, per Negan's expectations. "You call it Lucille. Why?"_

_Negan turns away from the window, shooting Rick a blank stare. "...It's a bat--why the fuck does it matter?"_

_Rick just shrugs, not bothered by Negan's harsh words. "Just wonderin'...I've seen how protective you are of it...her. Just kinda figured you'd named her after a wife or daughter or somethin'."_

_Negan supposes that observation makes some sense. It's either that, or him doing like some guys do and just giving her a name because she's a prized possession, kind of like how some people do with cars or motorcycles. But seeing as Rick has hit the nail on the head, Negan supposes it's time to spill the beans._

_"This fucking bat's got nothing to do with my wife." He answers simply. "It's just that after she died, this is the first goddamn thing I picked up that I held onto for dear life since."_

_Rick's gaze falls, and Negan knows that pitying look. "Don't look at me that way. She's not suffering anymore. That's all that fucking matters. Not that she couldn't have kicked the metaphorical ass of this whole piece of shit apocalypse, but that's beside the point."_

_The smaller man hesitates, but eventually nods. He clears his throat, looking sheepishly up at Negan. "...She get bit?"_

_Negan shakes his head. "Cancer."_

_"Oh." Rick fumbles with his hands in his lap. "I'm sorry, Negan."_

_"Don't be." Negan responds almost immediately. "It's over."_

_From that point on, Rick asks what she was like, and what she did for a living. He covers everything from her hair color to activities that she and Negan liked to do together. He even manages to get out that Negan cheated on her for a long period of time. Maybe it's because he can see how much it hurts Negan now that she's gone--how much he loves her despite what he'd done while they were together--maybe that's why he doesn't bother to question it or pass judgment. Negan still doesn't know._

_But even after that, Rick's loyal as ever. Hell, maybe even more so._

_Negan makes a mental note to return the favor, and he silently swears to his late wife that he's not going to let anyone counting on him die again._

_\- - - - -_

The breeze is what snaps Negan awake. At first, the thinks he's riding in a vehicle, but soon enough, he realizes the ground isn't vibrating beneath him. He opens his eyes, greeted to a dark ceiling. He smells blood and vomit and death. His right arm burns fiercely.

Doesn't take long for him to orient himself. The only bullshit part is the fact that they're still at that godforsaken fucking piece of shit house. Negan aches to go back to the Sanctuary--back home.

He rolls, pushing himself up with his left arm. He's a little dizzy, but it's not nearly as bad as before he'd passed out. Rick is still out cold next to him, Lewis is still very dead a couple of yards away. He makes his way to the balcony, where the storm has completely given way to clear skies by now. Negan has no idea how late it is, but the night sky and all its stars are what he sees right now. He wonders how long he's been out.

He can see Simon perched on the hood of the car they took here, keeping watch. Dwight is visible sleeping in the passenger's seat of the vehicle, leaving just Negan and Rick in the upstairs living room of this house.

Negan turns his attention to Rick, who's snoozing peacefully on the floor not far from the couch. Just hours ago, he'd called Negan his _life,_ and even though Negan had always known how highly Rick had regarded him, hearing it out loud is still just as alarming and flattering as if he'd been realizing it for the first time.

Maybe Simon's onto something.

A growl brings Negan's focus to Lewis. He grabs his knife and rounds the now-stirring body. White-Hair now looks blind in both eyes, but Negan doesn't care. He just watches blankly as the poor, undead fucker reaches a bloodied hand out in an attempt to grab Negan's leg. Negan takes a step back, and then forward again, before he embeds the blade into the man's skull. Lewis' body stills instantly. Even left-handed, Negan's still able to finish him relatively quickly.

Rick sits bolt upright, and if Negan's being honest, he's kind of relieved to see him awake. Even if it's with a revolver pointed at him.

"...Negan. Thank god." Rick lowers his weapon as he flops back down onto his back, and Negan approaches. He offers the other man his hand, and Rick takes it. His balance is still a little compromised, but he somehow manages to get Rick to his feet.

They don't speak beyond that. Rick just scoops up the ammo bag and Negan picks up his gun, holstering it. They descend the stairs into the first floor living room in silence.

Negan knows it's because they've got a lot to talk about. He wants to know what Rick was thinking to venture out here by himself, and how he managed to happen upon Lewis. He wants to know if Rick found Lucille, and where she might be. And he knows Rick wants to ask him what compelled him to come out here searching for him. They'll probably argue about it later.

But Negan stops dead in his tracks, anyway. Rick hears his footsteps die off and stops walking as well. He turns to face him, blue eyes curious and uncertain, and Negan realizes in heavy, crashing waves that he almost lost Rick today. For whatever reason, he'd found Lewis and his gang, and they had chased him back to this house. He'd somehow known to pull in here, and then he'd almost died all over again. That doesn't count how long he might have been out facing the infected, either.

If Negan hadn't come searching for him, he'd have died.

And maybe Rick is starting to realize the same thing, because as Negan advances on him, he drops the ammo bag and just lets him take hold of the front of his shirt, shove him back, and push him hard against the wall next to the television. Rick's hands float up to the sides of Negan's face in unison with Negan leaning in and capturing his lips with his own. They inhale simultaneously, and Negan's body is suddenly pressed tightly against Rick's. Rick tastes like blood and sweat and dirt, but he doesn't care. It's good, it's so fucking good.

It's been a long time coming. Judging by the way Rick's hands slide from Negan's face to around his back, balling up into his jacket, he must think so too.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is meant to be a bit of a break from all the intensity that has been going on since the beginning. The tone of the fic shifts a little from here, but hopefully, y'all will still be able to enjoy it! 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!

It all moves so quickly. One minute, Negan and Rick are kissing heatedly against the wall of that dark first floor living room, and the next, they're on the couch, bodies rocking frantically against one another in a desperate struggle for contact and friction and _one another._

Negan thinks it's strange, how their injuries don't matter, and how well they know each other despite never having taken it to this level before. Rick's sitting atop Negan's lap, his shirt discarded on the ground nearby. Negan knows every curve of Rick's abdomen and torso because he's hugged him, touched him, seen him, even studied his fucking shape before. That doesn't stop him from running his fingers along the bruised skin. Rick took quite the beating in his car accident, and maybe a little during the fight with Lewis.

"I hate your ass for running off like that." Negan purrs.

"No," Rick shoves Negan's jacket off and pushes his shirt up, leaning down for a kiss before he yanks it off as well, "you don't."

"No," Negan can't stop himself from repeating, as his lips meet Rick's again, "I don't."

They fall silent, caught up in the fervent attempts to bring their bodies closer, ever closer. Rick rocks his hips down, embeds both hands in Negan's hair, sucks at his lower lip, and it's the best Negan can to to hitch his breathing so that he doesn't make too much noise.

Thank god Simon and Dwight are outside.

"You're still a fucking moron for doing it." Negan continues, raising his hips for Rick to slide his pants down. The words die in his throat when the smaller man takes hold of him. The back of his head meets the couch cushion and his eyes fall shut.

"I don't care what you think about it." Rick responds, spitting into his hand.

Negan honestly doesn't know how it goes from Rick touching him to Rick fucking himself on him, but in just minutes, Negan finds himself surrounded by heat and friction, and a very flustered Rick Grimes positioned above him.

If he's being honest, even when Negan had kissed Rick moments ago, he hadn't expected to be doing this right here, right now. Maybe later, back at the Sanctuary, but not here. Rick, however, apparently has different plans.

He rides Negan like he was born to, hips rocking fluidly down onto the other man's. He dips down for kisses, sucks at Negan's jaw and earlobe, nibbles at his lips. He's panting against Negan's skin, and Negan's groaning into the sensation. He curls his arm around Rick's back and digs his nails into the flesh there.

It's so primal and rushed and quick that they're done within minutes, but there's so much meaning in every single second that neither man seems disappointed. It's over a year of words left unsaid, feelings left un-acted upon, anger and frustration being taken out on one another, and a whole crazy mixture of so many different things that Negan can't really put it all together into one description. It's just himself and Rick Grimes, and himself _fucking_ the shit right out of Rick Grimes, until they're both hot and sticky with sweat and spunk, dirt and blood, burning with exerted frustration.

And longing. Need and desperation and fear and _longing_.

When they finish, Negan feels almost as spent as he had before he'd passed out upstairs, but he gets dressed regardless. He's getting better at this one-handed dressing thing, and he smirks when Rick seems to notice this same fact.

They don't say a word, though. They just focus on getting dressed, gather up their things, and start out the door. Simon hears them coming, and when he faces them, he whistles aloud.

"You guys look like shit."

\- - - - -

The entire drive back to the Sanctuary is silent. Negan and Rick ride in the back seat while Dwight drives and Simon sleeps off the hours he spent on watch. They don't say a word. Rick's got his bag from the wreckage of his vehicle in his lap, and his gaze is focused out the window, and Negan tries to get some sleep during the ride there.

Once they arrive, Simon practically drags them both to Doctor Carson's office. Negan's right shoulder has mostly survived the fight without the dressing coming off, though he does a lot of cleaning and puts a new one on him, before attending to the other new abrasions he sports. The entirety of the time, he reminds Negan that he can't recover from an amputation if he's out getting into fights, to which Negan repeatedly rolls his eyes.

Afterward, Carson works on Rick. He spends quite a long time on the smaller man, who has cuts and bruises everywhere. He doesn't think Rick's broken a rib, but he tells him to mind the bruises anyway. The injury that had at one point had Rick limping is just another long abrasion caused during the car crash. After that, it's just a lot of cleaning and bandaging, and then both men are good to go. Simon and Dwight are left with the doctor, while Rick and Negan head back to Negan's room.

They're still quiet, even as they enter his room and move to take a shower. They clamber in together, which has become commonplace ever since Negan lost his arm, and Rick helps him wash up. He returns the favor the best he can, and then they silently make their way to Negan's bed. It doesn't take long for Negan to be lying on his side, with Rick snuggled up behind him, an arm loosely wrapped around his waist and his face buried in the back of his neck.

Negan's almost asleep when Rick finally opens his mouth to speak. It doesn't come before a gentle kiss on the nape of his neck, though.

"Why'd you go after me?" It's like he's picking up the conversation that Lewis and his cronies had so rudely interrupted earlier that day.

Negan simply scoffs. "Can't fucking believe you'd even ask."

"No, I know the answer." Rick sighs. "It's just...your arm."

"I'm not an invalid, Rick." Negan deadpans.

"No, you're not." Rick agrees. "But you _are_ still in recovery. Don't see why you wouldn't have just sent someone else out to find me."

Negan pushes himself into a sitting position with his left hand and turns to shoot Rick a sharp glare.

"Okay, alright." Rick's resting on his back as he holds both hands up in surrender. "I get it. Guess I wouldn't have been able to sit still either if it were me."

Negan's glare doesn't fade. "You're damned stupid for going out there in the first place. Why the fuck didn't you wait until we could both go? It's not like I didn't plan on looking for Lucille later."

"Because I wasn't lookin' for her." Rick responds, and Negan freezes. He knows what Rick's going to say, but he lets him answer anyway, watching as he looks down and at the sheets. "You were just so damned angry, and I knew it was because you were frustrated about losin' your arm. That day, when you snapped at me over bringin' up Lucille, I spent hours mad at you. And then I was mad at myself for not gettin' Lucille. And then, I remembered Lewis. I couldn't sleep. Soon as the sun came up, I went after him."

Negan frowns, waiting for Rick to continue.

"He wasn't at the house, but I stopped by anyway. I'd killed two of his guys before, and those were the only bodies left. They'd turned, so I finished 'em off. Lucille wasn't there, so I just got back on the road to search for him. Spent a few hours lookin', before I found a camp." Rick looks up at Negan, expression serious. "There's more to his group than just the people we saw today. His camp was huge. He saw me, chased me, and that's how I ended up crashed at that house. Wrecked on purpose--I was gonna pretend to be dead, but then I saw you."

"Jesus, Rick." Negan scowls. "And you're mad at me for being reckless. Do you realize how many fucking near-death situations you put yourself in?"

He scratches the back of his head. "I do. And I'm sorry."

By now, Negan isn't angry anymore. He's just...relieved. He scrubs at the back of his neck with his hand, and then crosses his legs and rests his hand in his lap. "It's okay. Fuck, you know it's always going to be okay." Negan knows Rick's reasons are good enough in terms of intent, and if he's being honest, it's not like he's ever going to be able to stay mad at Rick.

Besides, Rick's not the only one who should be apologizing.

"I'm...really fucking sorry for going off on you over Lucille, Rick." Negan says. He feels Rick shift next to him, and then suddenly, the other man is behind him, sliding his arms around his waist. Negan leans back appreciatively into the contact and continues speaking. "You did what you could back there, and I shouldn't have made you feel like saving my sorry ass wasn't enough."

He feels Rick shake his head. "I know you didn't mean it that way. You've had a long as hell past couple of weeks, Negan. Thank you for apologizin', but I understand." Warm lips press against the skin of Negan's right shoulder. "I knew what you were tryin' to do, anyway."

Negan frowns. "What do you mean?"

"The way you talked to me. You wanted to push me away because you were scared."

Rick's so smart and intuitive. Negan likes to think he's not the dullest knife in the case, but Rick never fails to surprise him with just how much he knows, and how much he absorbs of his surroundings.

"I know because I wanted to do it before." Rick adds, seeking out Negan's hand with his own. "Do you remember when we stayed in that cabin and our tire blew out on the way back the next day? When we had to climb those trees. You fell, and I honest to God thought you were a goner. I didn't think--just jumped right in and started swingin'. Dunno how you came out of it alive, but I swore that was never gonna happen again. I didn't want you to leave the Sanctuary anymore. Thought about runnin' off, but I knew you'd just try to come find me."

"Yeah." Negan laughs, bewildered yet again by Rick's accuracy. "You see how that turned out this time. But if I'm being honest here, I didn't know what the fuck else to do."

"What do you mean?" Rick's breath is warm and comforting on Negan's back.

Negan pivots until he's facing Rick and shakes his head. "That guy wanted your ass dead. And you were talking about being the one to die, and then they _did this to me_ , and all I could think about was what they were gonna do to you. It honestly isn't even _about_ Lucille at this point. I can't lose you, Rick--"

Rick raises a hand to his lips, silencing him. Negan feels the brush of the other man's thumb along his lower lip, making his breath catch in his throat. "I'm alive, Negan. We're alive. I'm sorry I said all that stuff...I was just thinkin' the same thing. About how I couldn't lose you and all." There's a solemn smile on his lips. Negan wants to kiss it away. "But I still lose you if I die."

He leans in and Negan meets him in the middle as they come together again. He braces with his hand on the mattress as Rick curls his arms around his neck. The room goes silent, save for the heavy breathing of both men. Rick slides a hand down between them, and they both take the time to come apart together, mouths falling open, Negan stifling moans in the crook of Rick's neck.

Soon enough, they're lying naked on Negan's bed, completely spent. Negan's head is on the pillow, looking Rick in the eyes as his left hand trails up and down along the man's chest and stomach. The newfound silence gets Negan's mind churning again, and before he realizes it, he's thinking about all those flashbacks he encountered back at that house.

"What happened after I blacked out?" He asks, gaze focused on Rick's eyes. "With Lewis."

Despite all of Negan's earlier concerns, Rick doesn't seem to have any problem talking about it. There's probably a good chance the guy's wanted to bring it up for some time now. Negan hasn't exactly been giving him the ability to up until now, after all.

"I lost it." He admits honestly. "Used the cuffs around my wrists to knock two of the guys in the head until they died. Lewis has always been kinda slow to react, so it wasn't hard to get him once I caught him off guard. I got his machete and his other two buddies took off. I used it to cut the chains on the cuffs while Lewis kept tryin' to attack me. Got the chains cut off, but he kicked the machete away, so I beat the shit out of him, before he hollered for the rest of his guys and ran off. I'd have killed them all if you hadn't been bleedin' out."

Negan glances over at him, swallowing nervously. "I'm surprised I ended up back here."

"I used the radios. Got you into the car, started back, and didn't stop radioing for help until Dwight and Simon brought Doctor Carson to you halfway there. He had to clean and cauterize your wound on the drive. You screamed the whole time."

Jesus. Negan pales again at the thought. "...how in the fuck don't I remember that?"

Rick shakes his head. "Dunno. But once he had it done, you passed out again. You got an infection, spent two weeks runnin' a fever and sweatin' and...I didn't think you were gonna make it."

Holy shit. Negan can't remember any of that, but it's as if he can feel it happening. If he closes his eyes, he can remember the rumble of the truck beneath him, and the smell of the fire used to cauterize the wound. And now that he thinks about it, it makes sense that his right arm felt as if it were on fire when he'd initially awakened.

"I'm sorry, Rick."

"Don't be." Rick answers. "Can we...can we just take a nap?"

Negan laughs. "To be honest, that sounds like the best fucking idea in the universe right now."

\- - - - -

That evening belongs to Rick and Negan. When they aren't wrapped up in one another, panting and rolling their bodies together, they're sitting on the couch, talking and spending some much-needed time with one another. Tomorrow, therapy starts up again, and that means that soon, Negan and Rick are going to be back to running the Sanctuary like they had been before. That means less time between just the two of them. So they're fully intent on making the best of what they have.

At present, they're in the bathtub. Even though they'd taken a shower earlier, their third heated tryst together has left them sweaty and sticky, so they decide to take a bath. It's a big tub that Negan had installed when he and Rick ran across a home improvement store. The good part of the big group that is the Sanctuary is that at least one of them has worked in home improvement. So now, thanks to that, he has a large, jacuzzi style bathtub for himself and Rick to enjoy.

He's kissing along Rick's neck when the smaller man speaks up.

"I wonder if that camp has Lucille."

Negan, drunk on affection, sobers up at those words and sits back. He's frowning. "...I miss Lucille more than you can fucking imagine, Rick, but I feel like we're done with that group and their shit, y'know?"

"I don't." Rick shakes his head. "It's just that I know how hard it is to lose your wife. Might be kinda ridiculous to outside eyes that you keep a bat named after her, but it's obviously important to you, so I want to get it back."

Negan sighs. "So you're suggesting that we go knocking at these fuckers' doors--the same fuckers, mind you, who at one point operated under the fucker you turned into a _dead_ fucker--and just ask for Lucille back?"

"If they have her, yeah." Rick shrugs. "And if they're agreeable to it."

"And if they're not?" There's some level of excitement to those words. Negan knows what Rick's getting at, and even though they've both literally just gotten done with putting their lives on the line, planning on going into a potentially just as dangerous situation together is thrilling. When it's the two of them as a team, there's nothing that can stop them.

"Then we take her, anyway." Rick answers simply.

Negan just smirks. He's got a lot of recovery to go through before they can do anything, but if he can have sex with Rick more than once in one day, he's probably on the downhill part of the process. And it's never going to take much convincing for him to try and get his trusty vampire bat back.

Rick and Lucille. These are the only things Negan needs in his life. Ever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being halfway through this work, I realize how difficult it is to update a fic daily and work on other fics at the same time. That said, I'll be taking a short break from writing this until I can catch up on a few of the others. Shouldn't be longer than a week at most. Just enough time for me to feel like I'm not putting everything else on hold. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading this, and for your patience with all the fics I take forever to update!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, sorry this one took so long! Literally right after I finished the last chapter, I realized just how dramatically the tone of this fic was going to shift, and it was extremely hard to figure out exactly how I wanted to convey things. 
> 
> Probably not going to be able to promise daily updates anymore, but seeing as this fic still has relatively short chapters, it won't be two-week breaks anymore lol.
> 
> Forgive me! I hope you enjoy this regardless!

_"You're gonna have to understand. They're already dead." Nathaniel's voice is like needles on Rick's eardrums, piercing through all the snarls of his infected family and the screams of terror that he can't seem to stop from escaping his lips. The man stares, unfocused, down at the despairing widow, just as one of his groupmates puts Lori down, and then Shane. Their bodies crumple to the ground, discarded like trash, and Nathaniel practically drags Rick out to the living room, where the remainder of his son lies on the ground, just as unmoving as his mother and uncle._

_Rick supposes he might understand in the future, but he has no capacity to right now, and the fact that anyone would ask him to is completely asinine. People don't just lose their family members like this. It doesn't matter what kind of world anyone lives in on any given day. A father is not supposed to bury his son._

_The screams don't feel like they're coming from Rick's lips anymore. He feels like he's about a half a block away from himself, the voices disembodied and neglected in favor of the desire to fade away completely. Rick wishes he was dead--he honestly doesn't want to continue like this. He contemplates asking Nathaniel to put him down while he and his people are flaunting their guns around everywhere, but keeps his mouth shut._

_The screams stop, and Rick's gaze drifts down to the bloodied carpet, and then up to his fallen son. There's a section of torn, rotted flesh on the crook of Carl's neck, which leads Rick to believe that he must've been the first to turn. He can almost picture Shane dragging Lori off into the bedroom to examine a bite mark she acquired from her son, and it all going downhill from there._

_In a way, Rick appreciates that Shane didn't have the heart to kill them, because Rick himself obviously didn't. It's Nathaniel and his people who had to, and even now, after Rick's hysterics have given way to silent misery, he can feel the icy glare of disappointment emitting from the other man's direction and weighing heavily on his own shoulders._

_Rick honestly doesn't care. He can't bring himself to just be able to understand, and he probably never will be able to. He hates how he'd been forced away while his own family had been taken out right before his eyes, and he can already feel something of a budding hatred for Nathaniel for expecting him to._

_That budding hatred quickly blossoms into a full-on loathing. Nathaniel regards him coldly from then on out, and just as they're about to leave, one of his cronies decides to open his damn mouth and order Rick to tag along. Rick just slugs him. It feels good, and he almost thinks that another hit might ease the suffering completely, but before he can do anything else, he's been struck on the side of the head and everything's going black._

_\- - - - -_

"Hey." Rick feels Negan's presence before he hears him. It comes in a warm, one-armed embrace from behind and the rough nuzzle of beard stubble on the crook of his neck. Running on pure instinct, Rick leans back into that perfect feeling, his eyes falling shut.

It's been a full month since Lewis' death and Rick and Negan's return to the Sanctuary. Therapy has paid off, and Negan is functioning almost as if he hadn't lost an arm in the first place. He still conducts rounds, directs people, and addresses Rick like nothing happened, and even though there's a giant piece of him missing, Rick can tell he's actually really okay with it.

It isn't like Rick expected him to lose all the strength he already had--Negan is incredibly resilient--but it's impressive just how quickly he's managed to recover. In part, Rick blames the fact that he and Negan have been planning a visit to the people that make up the rest of Lewis' group. Their initial intent isn't to kill, and Negan wonders if maybe some of them would even like to join the Sanctuary, but they've both debated what to do in the event that things do get hostile.

The great thing about the large group of people they have is that everyone has their own skill set. They've got hunters, trackers, weapons experts, snipers, infiltrators, and basically everyone they need for the task of getting Lucille back. By now, Negan and Rick have both decided that they're going to show up at this camp innocently enough, requesting their bat back, but they won't be alone. They'll have men too--a ton of them. Weapons will be ready to fire in case something goes awry, but if they can get in and get out with Lucille and maybe a few new Saviors, they're going to.

Rick thinks that maybe he and Negan are burnt out on going on runs. That maybe they're finally ready to settle down and focus on running the Sanctuary. If they send enough men, they should be able to conduct runs a little more successfully--maybe start trade agreements with other communities they run into. They can make this work without having to vacation together all the time.

A big part of the reason Rick and Negan disappeared so often in the past was because of how little time they had to one another. It's gonna suck that they have to revert back to that, but Rick is sure Negan understands now that scarce time together alive beats no time together because one of them is dead. Negan at least doesn't seem to be pushing for them to go on runs all the time anymore. At present, he and Rick have Simon and Dwight on a run right now, and another group heading in the opposite direction.

Now is one of their rare moments together. Rick's just gotten out of the shower and is in the process of getting dressed. Negan's arm around him feels like it belongs there--as if it might as well be an article of clothing. Considering he's shirtless at the moment, it could be.

"Good morning." Rick hears the softness in his own voice, and it almost feels a little foreign. It's not like he hasn't been speaking affectionately to Negan over the course of the past month (or long before that, even) or anything. He's been doing it since he can remember. It still somehow feels odd to him, though. It amazes Rick that he possesses a gentle side anymore.

He hasn't told Negan, but killing Lewis has had its effect on him. A big effect. There's a side of Rick who actually appreciates the distance getting back to work has generated between himself and Negan. Emotionally, they're still connected at the hip. But physically, Rick is allotted the time to just think about what he'd done.

At the same time, it somehow feels like he can't get enough of Negan's presence. He's been what's keeping Rick alive for so long, now.

Much like when he bit Nathaniel's throat out, he doesn't regret killing Lewis. What scares him is how easy it was. His family had been so important to him that watching them slaughtered--watching his seven-year-old son shot--had eventually drawn him to commit murder. He loves Negan so desperately that he tortured and killed another man. And he doesn't regret it.

He's happy to be Negan's right hand man. He'll never step down from that--not even for a second. But is he a monster, now? And if Rick's dwelling on it, surely Negan thinks about it too. He and Rick aren't that different. Negan's outwardly going on about how badass his boyfriend is for 'tearing that fucker apart', but what goes on in his mind when he too has time apart from Rick?

Rick can't imagine a world when he isn't on Negan's side, but what if Negan still thinks about it?

He would be lost without Negan. It makes Rick's throat uncomfortably tight to think about where he would be if not for Negan coming and finding him on that day. He's so lucky, so very lucky.

He rotates in Negan's grip and slides his arms around the other man's waist. A smile forms on his lips. "What're you about to be up to?"

It feels so domestic, and on some level, Rick appreciates that. Even though he and Negan have been ridiculously close ever since they first met, there's never been this kind of feeling to their relationship. It's always been more about protecting one another no matter what. Rick never left Negan's side, and Negan never left Rick's. That's always how it's been, and it will probably continue to be that way, clear until they're both dead and gone.

Except now, there's a more familial sensation to it. Rick's always just been dedicated to Negan--he's never gotten to call him _his_ before. But now he can, and something about that makes him feel like their relationship is even stronger than it was before. It hardly seems possible, but here they are.

He likes the way Negan searches his eyes before he speaks. "I'm gonna hold a meeting over in supplies, and then there's a fuckton of organization to get done. I don't feel like it's ever gonna be finished, though."

Rick can sympathize. Between the conflict with Lewis and Negan's recovery, they've fallen behind on overseeing tasks. For the most part, the Sanctuary's functioned well without them constantly at the helm, but each day, the community grows, and as many extra hands as that earns them, it also earns them a fresh new handful of duties. It's a giant mess, and even though Rick somehow knows they're steadily getting caught up, it really is easy to feel buried in it all.

"I feel that." Rick laughs softly, before he brings a hand up to Negan's chest. "That's okay, though. You should take it easy today. I'll come back early this evening if you do."

"You know, Rick," Negan laughs, "the Sanctuary's gonna start thinking you're going soft if you keep this shit up. Not that I don't fucking enjoy the hell out of some alone time with you or anything."

"It's no different from us sneaking away on runs." Rick reminds with a soft smile. "Just come back early tonight, will you?"

Rick enjoys the slight roughness of Negan's hand on the side of his face. He leans into the warmth, watching as the larger man speaks. "Alright, so you want more Negan Time--I can sympathize with that. You fucking got it, you needy little shit."

"Good." Rick steals a kiss, and then he pulls back. "I'll make it worth your while."

Unsurprisingly, Negan's face lights right up at that comment. "I'm gonna hold you to that, baby."

As Rick gets dressed, Negan clambers into the shower. The warmth of their embrace lingers, and helps propel Rick through the process of getting ready for a long day at work. For a moment, it almost feels normal--like they're a couple saying their goodbyes before they head to their shifts at work, and like they'll come back home and have dinner together. Maybe they have kids. Man, if Carl had met Negan, that would've been something else...

It's strange, how Rick can feel something like overwhelming adoration and immense emotional pain all at the same time. But he does. By now, he knows that the pain of losing his wife and child all that time will never go away. Killing Lewis, and killing Nathaniel weren't permanent solutions to the pain. Justice and vengeance were served, but Rick knows that it won't bring his family back.

In a brief fit of frustration, Rick kicks at his discarded towel and starts out the door. At least working keeps his mind occupied.

\- - - - -

_When Rick comes to, it's in the back seat of a car. His head throbs from a hit he vaguely remembers suffering, and as he pushes himself up, he raises a hand to nurse the aching wound. He kind of feels like throwing up, but he somehow manages to ignore the sensation. Peering into the front seat of the vehicle, he sees that there's only one other occupant. Nathaniel is at the wheel, and the minute Rick lays eyes on him, he remembers exactly what happened._

_The screams that didn't sound like they were his own as Nathaniel and his people killed off his family and best friend. Carl lying face-down on the ground. Lori and Shane, lifeless. The cold stares of Nathaniel's group as they did what they so firmly believed needed to be done. Rick hated them the whole time he watched, and he hates them even more now._

_He's seeing Nathaniel through a thick haze of angry red. He wants him dead. Wants to chew right into him like his infected son would have if he'd have been given the chance. It doesn't matter that Carl was no longer himself--seeing him be killed like that was just as painful as it would have been if it would have happened to a not-infected version of his child._

_No parent should ever have to see their child die._

_"Where are we?" He questions in a gruff, raspy voice._

_"We're about to leave King County. This town's barren." Nathaniel answers simply. He defies his words, however, when he pulls over suddenly. Rick turns in the seat, seeing the caravan behind him. Nathaniel has taken the lead, and when he pulls the vehicle over, everyone else follows suit._

_A heavy silence falls over the interior of the car._

_"Get out."_

_Rick doesn't move. He meets Nathaniel's dead-eyed stare through the rear-view mirror and watches back with equal strength. "No."_

_"Get out." Nathaniel's voice is a little firmer this time, and Rick sees the way his eyebrows slant down in a glare. "Now."_

_He doesn't look away. "You at least gonna tell me why?"_

_There's an unspoken 'fair enough' in Nathaniel's expression, before he climbs out of the car and makes his way around the front of the vehicle, to the back seat. He yanks the door open and with a surprisingly strong grip, wrenches Rick clean out of the car. His grip on the former Sheriff's upper arm is painful, and as Rick narrows his eyes at Nathaniel, he conveys said pain, as well as confusion and the anger he already held._

_"You're weak." Nathaniel sneers, his hold on Rick unfaltering. "You couldn't make out the difference between your own family and those goddamned monsters. You're never going to learn, and you're going to keep looking at me like I'm the enemy, when I'm not. So you gotta go. Find someone who can tolerate babysitting you, or die. I don't give a shit which."_

_Rick's not sure what to say, so he doesn't speak at all. He just keeps a fierce glare fixed on Nathaniel as the other man finally releases him. There's a distant ringing in his ears. It reminds Rick of the screams he'd bellowed out when begging Nathaniel not to let his group kill off his family, but at the same time, sounds more like the ringing that comes after a particularly loud gunshot. It's quiet and far away at first, but grows louder and louder as time passes._

_Neither man moves. They're in some sort of nonverbal standoff, Nathaniel glaring daggers at Rick, and Rick narrowing his eyes back. Hatred swells around him, hot and putrid, and Rick realizes in seconds that he wants nothing more than to kill this man. To watch the life drain from him, and to wipe that evil sneer right off his face. The ringing intensifies._

_Faintly, Rick can hear the doors of cars behind him swinging shut, and the footsteps of approaching group members. Someone suggests Nathaniel just knock Rick out again, but Rick can only vaguely perceive the words over the sound in his ears, which has now escalated to a high-pitched wail. It envelops his hearing and clouds his mind, and before Rick realizes what he's doing, he's got a hand on the chest of Nathaniel's shirt._

_His brain is screaming things like 'hate you' and 'die' and 'you murdered my family' so loudly that Rick can't bring himself to focus on the outside world. Somehow, he knows he's reacting violently, and if he concentrates hard enough, he can almost feel the tearing of skin and sinewy muscle beneath his teeth. The tang of blood permeates his cloudy senses, washing over his tongue and filling his nostrils._

_When he comes back to reality, it's to the spray of hot, wet blood across his face and chin and neck. Rick spits the chunk of Nathaniel's throat he's apparently bitten out onto the ground. His vision is hazy, but he gets what he wants. He gets to see those eyes widening in shock, and the pathetic way with which Nathaniel brings his hands up to his throat, touching the wound. Blood is everywhere, though, and he doesn't stand a chance at survival._

_Rick doesn't say a word. He just pulls his knife from its holster and, once certain the man is almost completely dead, embeds the blade in his temple._

_Even as the others swarm him, he slides his knife back into the holster. He doesn't fight the fists to his skull and stomach and shoulders, nor the kicks to his back and sides as his body hits the ground. In all honesty, Rick just doesn't care anymore. Carl and Lori are dead, and so is Nathaniel. Even if he were to die here, it wouldn't matter. Rick's world went away the instant he saw it disappear from the eyes of his wife and son._

_\- - - - -_

This kind of intimacy is as familiar as it is new to Rick. He knows that in a sense, he's always had it with Negan. It's always been there, in the gentle hands grasping for his own, or the soft way Negan had caressed his face or pulled him into bed with him. In the lingering stares between them, and the unspoken promise that they'd always have one another. In the simple fact that Negan saved Rick's life all that time ago.

Lying in that grass, Rick had been sinking, drowning in a sea of blood-red hatred and misery. Life and death ran together like watercolors, blending, making the original colors almost impossible to interpret. And sure, Negan hadn't had any idea that all of this was happening, but he had still done the right thing.

Rick owes him _everything_.

His grip on Negan's shoulders is slippery with sweat and bath water, as he bears his hips down onto the other man. His head rolls back, mouth falling open as Negan fills him up. A groan escapes his lips, before he dips forward again and covers Negan's lips with his own. Their mouths mingle heatedly, and they devolve into silence, clear until Negan finishes inside Rick and Rick climaxes in turn.

And then they go still. Rick's body slumps forward, trembling ever-so-slightly against Negan's, as he rests his forehead on his lover's shoulder. Negan's hand is in his hair, fingering the curls at the back of his neck. It feels nice, and Rick thanks him with a soft kiss to the crook of his neck.

He laughs. "I told you I'd make it worth your while."

It's been a long day. While Negan has been hard at work off in supplies, Rick has been poring over the garden with the assigned Saviors, examining crops and making suggestions for positioning and watering. For the most part, the garden has been faring well without Rick's oversight, but with a few extra pointers, he's sure it'll grow even better. Either way, he's been a busy man all day long, and it feels nice to come back a little early, regardless of whether Negan would have chosen to show up then or not.

Thankfully, he did, and this is the end result. They've been in this bath for too long, and now, Negan is laughing and suggesting they take a shower to actually get clean. Rick knows he's right, and now that the hot bath water has helped to soothe his aching muscles, he feels relaxed enough to do so without complaining too much.

It doesn't take long for them to shower off, and they're soon in Negan's bed, sitting against pillows with papers strewn out across it. What they've got is maps that Rick's been working hard at sketching out. Maps of what he'd seen of the camp before he'd had to take off, and of the roads around it. Places where he'd seen more dead ones, and alternate routes if necessary. Rick's always had a good memory, but this one has managed to bore its way into his skull, considering all that surrounds it.

If not for the fact that he's trying to give Negan a good idea of what they'll be walking into, Rick wouldn't even need to draw out the map. But here they are, studying every page. Negan's got a pair of old black-rimmed glasses that probably don't do him justice anymore, but he still peers through the lenses at the images scribbled out onto the paper.

"We can put one group here," Negan suggests, pointing to a side route, before he nods to another, "two snipers here, in the trees, and one here."

"Yeah." Rick agrees. "And heavy artillery back here." For the most part, they've got it lined out. It all seems like it's going to go down pretty fluidly. They've got enough manpower to easily survive this one. It might be a little more time consuming than going in there like Rick and Negan would have done as a pair, but it'll work. And with any luck, they'll have Lucille back. Maybe that sad smile on Negan's face will warm up a little.

Negan sighs contentedly and leans back against the headboard of his bed. He pulls his glasses away and sets them on the end table, letting his eyes fall shut. "Well, fuck. That's that, then. We've got two groups on a run right now, but they should be back any day. Give them a couple days to get their shit together, and then we'll set out." He opens his eyes, his gaze meeting Rick's. "Sound good?"

"I think so." Rick nods. "We're gonna have to double down on work until then--get everything in order before we leave, so we don't have to clean up again if we're gone longer than we're planning."

Negan scoffs. "Says the plucky motherfucker who suggested I play hookey today."

"I suggested you come back a little early, Negan." Rick laughs. "Doesn't mean I don't know how busy things are about to get."

Negan shrugs, as if to say 'fair enough', and then starts stacking the papers up. He uses the clip on the pencil to hold the papers together as he sets them on the end table next to his glasses. Afterward, he slides down into a lying position on the bed, folding his hand behind his head. All of this is a pretty impressive task, considering Negan's done it all with one hand. He's been making a habit out of doing the more challenging things like this by himself lately.

Rick's both proud and impressed. Negan's getting used to functioning with just his left hand surprisingly quickly. He must really want to get out to this camp and finish the last leg of their job.

Rick slides in next to him, hands folded over his own stomach as he stares up at the ceiling. "...You been practicing shooting left-handed?"

"A little." Negan answers honestly. "It's tough to find time to, but it isn't like I've never fired left-handed before anyway."

Rick knows exactly what he's talking about. It's not uncommon for Negan to run into battle with Lucille in his right hand and a pistol in his left. His aim isn't fantastic, but it still gets the job done. With as many people as they have joining this last effort, Rick isn't terribly concerned.

The room falls silent for a few minutes, with the two men just staring up at the ceiling. Negan is the first to break the silence.

"After we finish this," he starts, his gaze still focused up high, "we should get married."

Rick swears he feels his stomach pop right out of his skin.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna stop estimating times between updates because I can never get them out on time. I swear I'm not giving up on any of my works though, guys. ; w; Sorry I'm so bad at deadlines.

_Rick has learned in record time to take most of the things Negan says with a grain of salt. Vulgarity is like its own language when it comes from Negan, and he speaks it like he invented the damn thing. Most of the time, it's jokes about how Rick's nature turns him on, but he refers to his dick as if it has its own personality, so it's not surprising that Negan regards it so often._

_In its own way, it's endearing. Especially when it's about Rick. And hell, maybe all that erection-related vulgarity is what ends up sowing the seeds of the affection Rick feels for Negan now, but either way, it's always been there. Negan has never been afraid to tell Rick exactly what he thinks about something, even if that's to tell him that he's done something to generate some arousal._

_Rick knows almost immediately when he's fallen in love with Negan. If he's being honest, it didn't take long. Rick recalls being rescued and taken to the police station showers, and then he remembers them sticking together like glue. From the very beginning, they've worked so fluidly together that they've both always known that neither of them were going anywhere._

_But here they are, holed up in some trailer house, the undead smacking at the outside walls and beating on the feeble excuse for a front door with all their might. Their snarls fill the trailer like they're already inside, and for a moment, Negan and Rick both seem to feel like this is it._

_Pathetically, Rick thinks that this is okay. That as long as it's Negan he's with when everything ends, he'll be alright. It's only been a month or so since they met, but Rick feels as if he's known Negan forever._

_Unlike Rick, Negan figures something out. Rick finds himself watching in awe as the larger man locates a handful of different supplies -- two cans of charcoal starter fluid, a Zippo lighter, and a ream of printer paper. All household supplies that Negan has already come up with a plan of use for._

_"See anything here you want to keep?" Negan asks as he motions around the trailer house, drawing Rick out of his thoughts. It's late at night, so it's difficult to see much of anything in the trailer(serious kudos to Negan for finding his things so quickly). Rick isn't certain how to answer._

_"Haven't looked." He admits. Normally, he's the quick-thinking one. Negan's always telling Rick just how amazing he is in a pinch. But right now, he can't seem to process anything. He's willingly handing Negan the gauntlet, and with no regrets. He somehow already knew this guy was a tactical genius long before today, but it's amazing to see him in action._

_"You've got two minutes, Rick." Negan answers. "Find any important shit you can get your hands on, and then meet me in the end bedroom. We're gonna have to fuck off real fast here pretty soon."_

_Rick just nods and watches as Negan scoops a knife out of a drawer, carries his supplies into the hallway, and disappears._

_Rick finds a lot. He's lucky enough to get his hands on a gym bag, which he flings armfuls of cans he can't read the labels on into. Plastic silverware, bottled water, and a couple of rolls of toilet paper later, and Rick is at one hundred seconds. It's time to get back to Negan._

_The moonlight is visible in the bedroom, shining in through a single, standard size window on the far end. Negan has just finished unscrewing the last screw on it with the knife he picked up, before he pops the screen off. The glass is pushed up as far as it will go, not leaving much room for a grown man to crawl out, but it's just barely enough. Negan's a little bigger than Rick, so he'll have a little trouble, but it'll work._

_Somehow, the dead ones haven't been alerted to this side of the trailer, which Negan takes advantage of. He stuffs his supplies into the copious amounts of pockets on his outfit, all except for the paper. After taking the gym bag from Rick and dropping it as quietly as he can onto the ground outside, he offers the paper to Rick._

_"I'm gonna give you a boost, and then you're gonna help me up." Negan explains._

_"...The roof?" Rick realizes aloud._

_"Fuck yes, the roof." Negan smirks, and Rick's chest suddenly feels like it might explode. "You're gonna want to see this shit, Rick. You might just cream yourself on the spot."_

_...Jeez._

_Either way, they somehow manage, and Rick and Negan and his supplies, all save for the gym bag, make it onto the roof. Negan springs for the other end and inhales sharply, before he bellows down at the infected below._

_"HEY, ASSHATS!" He calls, stamping his feet on the metal of the roof. "DON'T SUPPOSE YOU GOT ENOUGH BRAIN STEM LEFT TO TURN THE FUCK AROUND AND WALK AWAY, DO YOU? NO? ALRIGHT, THEN! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOU FUCKS BITCHING ABOUT A GODDAMNED SUNBURN!"_

_And then it's like fireworks. Rick joins Negan just behind him, right in time to see him rip the ream of paper open and scatter the pearly white sheets across the sea of undead, then sprinkle both cans of starter fluid all over enemies and paper below alike. Afterward, he flicks open the lighter, sparks it, and lets it drop into the crowd._

_Smoke and paper ash float up almost instantly, and Rick backs away from the assault on his senses, shielding his eyes. He can hear Negan's barking laughter, and when he looks back up at the other man, he swears it's like he's looking at a painting._

_He's now standing a couple of yards behind Negan, where the growing fire has cast an eerie, smoky glow in front of Negan. His arms are spread wide as he cackles his celebration over his homemade inferno. And then he turns and grins at Rick, his eyes alight with excitement. Ash and smoke and dim fire-made light dance around him, making his form glow hauntingly._

_"How's this for a fucking bonfire?" Negan questions, seemingly unaware of Rick's mesmerized stare, or how his stomach is doing a hundred flips all at once. "Putting Burning Man to shame here, Rick! C'mere and get a look before we have to get the hell outta Dodge."_

_It's after Negan has directed Rick to the edge again, slid his arms around him from behind, and made a joke about the flying scene from Titanic, that it hits Rick. Those strong arms around him, and that deep, excited voice...this man, who often behaves like a child..._

_Rick is in love with him._

_\- - - -_

They're a day away from embarking on their trip to reclaim Lucille. Simon, Dwight, and the others have been back for two. They're being given some time to rest and get their lives on track before they set out, and in the process, Negan and Rick are working their asses off to make sure the Sanctuary is going to be in order while they're gone.

The two haven't visited with one another in days. Rick usually comes back late, and if he doesn't find Negan asleep in his bed, he finds him passed out on the couch next to all the maps Rick has been slaving over drawing out, glasses still on his face. If he's there, Rick will gently urge him back to bed and they'll curl up together. And if Rick doesn't wake up to an empty bed, he's the first to wake up and crawl out of bed himself.

The nights cuddled up together are nice, but Rick feels a little starved for affection. He misses Negan, and considering the actual _relationship_ part of their relationship is somewhat new, it's really not all that shocking for him to feel that way. He doesn't have to wonder if Negan feels the same, because the man undoubtedly does. He steals kisses when he can, but that's not very often anymore. It's all work and no play, until they can get Lucille back and get things going smoothly again.

But now, with a day left before they're going to head out, they've made some time. Or rather, Negan has made time and insisted Rick play along. He's leading him outside, around to a spot behind the Sanctuary. Nobody really spends much time there. There are a few storage sheds, but most everything is pretty well inside the building or in front of it.

Negan keeps them walking, though. He unlocks the fence and nods for Rick to follow, until they reach a small clearing--a spot where gravel fades away to dead grass. Negan directs Rick to four makeshift headstones, complete with wooden crosses standing upright next to them.

Rick lays eyes on the first one, with the name ' _Carl_ ' scratched into it, and he turns wide eyes to Negan.

"I know it's not much without the bodies," Negan starts, quick to try and explain himself, "but losing them did a metric fuckton of damage to you, so they must've been pretty damned deserving of a good fucking sendoff."

Rick doesn't speak. He honestly doesn't think he _can_ right now. His body feels so heavy all of a sudden, and his eyes so thick with moisture that he can barely focus enough to read the next two headstones, _'Lori'_ and _'Shane'_. He just lets Negan continue speaking.

"Everyone needs closure, Rick." Negan says, voice a little raspy. "Whether it's by hosting some shitty ragtag funeral in a patch of dead fucking grass or burying them on the spot, you're paying homage to them somehow. And you deserve to know that they're getting _something_ , okay?"

Rick's throat feels tight, and his hands start shaking. It's been a long time since he last allowed himself the luxury of getting emotional about what happened to his family. Hell, when _was_ the last time he did so? Probably on that fucking grass, after killing Nathaniel had done nothing to make his family come back...

Negan knows this, and Rick can see it in his steely expression. He's staring straight ahead at the the first of the three headstones as he speaks. "I'd be torn to fucking shit if my kid died, Rick. My wife was one thing, but someone we created together? I honestly don't know how in the holy hell you've gotten this far. It's funny, the things you notice when you spend enough time around someone."

Rick still doesn't speak. He just watches as Negan turns his gaze toward him and stares straight at him with eyes that are so soft, they almost don't look like Negan's.

"I've never once seen you grieve, Rick." Negan slides his hand into his pocket and turns his attention down to the ground, kicking at the yellowed grass. "Maybe if I had, I'd have asked you sooner about what had happened. But I figured if you were bottling it all up, you had some fucking reason to be keeping it in. It's been so long, though. I'll be the first to admit I bawl like a baby when Lucille crosses my mind just fucking right. Maybe I catch a whiff of her perfume, or you say something that reminds me of her...well, you've seen it, right?"

Rick has. It's not frequent, but there have been moments where Negan has wept openly about his late wife. And understandably so. It never once occurred to him that it was because he himself might have done something that reminded Negan of Lucille, but he gets it.

And frankly, Rick doesn't even know why he hasn't cried over it yet. Maybe he's kept himself busy. Sure, he'd killed off Nathaniel, but the others who had killed his family had still been alive. Rick doesn't know if some of them still are, but Lewis is at least dead. For the most part, he's gotten his justice, and it doesn't feel better.

Maybe he doesn't need to grieve. Maybe he's already moved on past the horrible part of the situation and decided to get on with his life. Certainly, that would be what Lori and Shane and Carl wanted of him. They sure as hell wouldn't like him hanging on to their deaths like a ball and chain attached to his ankles. And the pain of loss never fully goes away. It dulls over time, but it doesn't disappear.

"When's the last time you allowed yourself to feel upset about them, Rick?" Negan's tone is serious, and Rick's throat tightens at the sheer weight of it alone.

"I feel it all the time." He admits. "...Isn't a day that's gone by that I don't think about what happened."

"I know." Negan sighs. Rick can tell this isn't exactly something he's a professional in. He means well, but maybe he's trying a little too hard. Either way, Rick can tell what he's trying to do here, and he appreciates it.

"..Negan--"

"Look, you don't have to cry or anything, okay? Fuck, it'd be awkward as shit if you did just because I said so. I just...wanted you to have somewhere to do it if you needed to."

Rick's eyes snap back to Negan, and he's looking away, now. His hand is digging at the back of his neck, and he's nibbling at his lip. Rick wonders just how much of what Negan decided to do here is on impulse, and how much is on observation. Negan just said things like 'when's the last time you allowed yourself to feel upset' and 'it's funny, the things you notice when you spend enough time around someone', like he's just been watching, and waiting to offer a shoulder to cry on if Rick needed it.

That alone makes the former sheriff a little emotional.

"...When did you get the time to...?" Rick decides to ask. His throat is still tight and his voice comes out almost choked.

"Please." Negan laughs. "I can't do shit by myself with this." He extends his left arm and flexes the fingers on his hand. "I mean, guess I could if I really fucking wanted to, but I had help. Arat, Laura, and Sherry have all been helping with it. They lined out a bunch of area to make this place our own personal cemetery. I figured your family got first dibs, and they agreed. So...here it is."

Rick nods, and then turns his attention back to the headstones. "...Thanks, Negan. Means a lot."

"Don't mention it." Negan answers.

"It's been a long time since I read those names on anything." Rick adds. "Looks strange all this time later."

Rick doesn't cry. He feels like he wants to, but it's easier said than done. Instead, he lets Negan sweep in close and pull him into a hug, and he buries his face in his shirt. Negan is alive, and Rick can sense everything about that life in him. From the leather on his jacket to the musky scent of cologne he found somewhere, to the slight essence of sweat from the day's heat.

He misses the dead, but it's all he has in him to rejoice the living, rather than mourn the dead. Negan's offer hangs in the back of his mind, though, and he knows he won't forget it. Eventually, he's gonna need it. And that Negan gave him a place with which to do so means more than anyone can imagine.

He separates and takes Negan's hand into his own, so that they can head back to their room. As they pass the fourth headstone, Rick finally glances at the name inscribed on it, and what he sees makes him stop walking altogether, dropping Negan's hand.

' _Lucille._ '

When Rick looks down at the ground, he sees there's a small hole dug, but nothing in it. He knows all too well what that means, but finds himself turning his head up to gawk at Negan anyway.

Negan shrugs. "If I'm expecting you to have an outlet to move on with, I'd better take my own fucking advice, right?"

"But the bat--"

"It's a bat, Rick." Negan shakes his head. "I made the giant-ass mistake of thinking that slapping her name and some barbed-wire onto a bat was going to make me feel any goddamned better. Makes me feel delusional as shit, is what it does."

"...Are you sure about this?" Rick swallows nervously, because as long as he's known Negan, it's been him and Rick and Lucille. That's...a lot to let go of.

Negan hesitates, but nods after a few seconds. "Yeah, I am. Lucille's probably laughing her ass off at me for keeping the fucking thing as long as I have. She probably pissed herself happy when you showed up and reminded me what reality was."

"...Negan." Rick frowns. "What we had before...that wasn't realistic at all."

"It was to me." Negan answers honestly. "You grounded me--reminded me that it was possible to meet someone that wouldn't go away. Gave me a reason to fight to keep you alive. And look at what we made."

He's right, and Rick knows that. But it scares him, because back then, they had been willing to risk one another's lives just to protect one another--a vicious and highly counter-intuitive cycle.

It occurs to Rick that he still hasn't answered Negan's proposal. Hell, was that even what that was? Maybe he was just thinking out loud. In any case, the answer is obvious. Of course Rick wants to marry him. They're basically married already. But maybe Negan's talking actually having a ceremony and some sort of weird, post-apocalyptic honeymoon. Making it _official_.

And then Rick puts the pieces together. Negan's sending more people out on runs, and he and Rick are staying around, closer together. Sherry, Arat, and Laura are building a cemetery--just another addition to a community that is officially here to stay. He pays homage to Rick's old family and puts to rest the memory of his own, in a place that they call home.

He's trying to settle them down. Negan is subtly trying to make things feel more normal...like they should when someone is building a life with someone else. He doesn't want to coax Rick into anything, so he's doing it all himself, but his offer is right out there. His suggestion that they get married is left open, because he doesn't want to force Rick into anything.

He's giving Rick a chance to grieve, and to let go. He's letting him decide to mourn, and if he chooses to move on and accept Negan's proposal, the man will be right there.

For an asshole, he sure is a good person sometimes...

"...I love you." Rick says, as he finally breaks down. He turns his head slowly to look at Negan, and then right there in front of Lucille's headstone, collapses to his knees.

"Rick!" He watches Negan drop in front of him almost in slow motion, and feels that strong arm curl around his frame. He feels the press of Negan's jacket against his cheeks, and then cries openly.

He cries for so many reasons. He cries because he misses his wife and his son so much. Because Carl and Lori would've loved Negan, even if he would've been a little difficult to get used to. Because Lucille sounds amazing, and Negan loves her so much. Because Negan's letting go of someone he loves so much for Rick. Because Rick loves _Negan_ so much. Because when he looks back to lying on the grass back in King County, he would have never pictured being right here, in the grip of the second love of his life.

Because Negan is everything. Negan's scent is everything. Negan's warmth, his voice, the way he slicks his hair back and shaves--how he curses when he nicks himself because doing it left-handed is still a bit of a challenge. That big smirk of his. Those dark eyes. Rick doesn't want to lose that, even for a second.

And so he holds onto it for dear life. His sobs escalate into wails, as he lets out a literal year of pent-up frustration and despair. He chokes and bawls and hiccups into Negan's jacket, and Negan just holds him there. Faintly, he can feel the gentle brush of the larger man's fingers through his hair, and the soothing mantra of "...It's okay, baby...you're gonna be alright..." that he keeps repeating. Rick is somehow smiling, and then he's relaxing. A grip he didn't realize he had on Negan's shirt eases up, and he slumps forward and lets out a shaky sigh against Negan's form.

And then he pulls back, wipes his eyes, laughs, and shoves Negan. He's momentarily forgotten that the other man is sans one arm, so when Negan flops backward onto the ground, he immediately scoots closer and helps him sit back up.

"Love you too." Negan chuckles as he dusts himself off, and then Rick shoves him again, this time more gently. "...The fuck did I do, Rick?" Negan questions incredulously.

"Yeah."

Negan cocks an eyebrow. "...S'cuse me?"

"Yeah, you're right." Rick grins. "We should get married."

Negan looks dumbfounded, and for a moment, Rick wonders if he's judged this entire situation wrong. He finds himself thinking that maybe Negan was just making some weird joke about their already-present domesticity, and it doesn't take long for embarrassment to swirl around him, coloring his face and ears and neck bright red.

Shit, what does he do now?

Negan's booming laughter breaks through Rick's momentary haze of self-loathing. The color drains from his face as he turns a shocked glance toward the other man, just in time to see the chortling ebb away.

"What?" Rick deadpans.

"Nothing." Negan retorts. "It's just about goddamned time you gave me the affirmative on that one."

Rick throws his arms around Negan's shoulders, effectively knocking them both back onto the ground. He doesn't care how cliche any of this looks. It's the end of the world, after all. It doesn't matter. He's going to be the lovestruck movie character for a second.

Either way, he pours everything into a long, much-needed kiss. He feels Negan's arm come around his waist, and brings his hands around Negan's neck, along his shoulders, to the sides of his face, and then buries his fingers in the other man's hair. His chest clenches and swells and his stomach flutters, and goddamn it, they're going to be _happy_ together.

When he pulls away, he sees moisture smeared on Negan's cheeks and realizes that he's started crying again. Not that the larger man seems to care. He just reaches up and uses his thumb to brush the tears from underneath either of Rick's eyes. Another sickeningly cliche scene that Rick doesn't care to view as such.

 _...Shit, oww!_ Suddenly, Rick's eyes are burning. He reaches up to wipe at them with his sleeves.

"Really?" Negan laughs sympathetically. "Again? C'mon, Rick, I'm here okay?"

"Shut up." Rick shakes his head, and when he pulls his arms down, he's got one eye squeezed shut. "You got dirt in my eye."

"Oh, shit--sorry!" Negan immediately moves to help Rick to his feet so they can get him to a place with a sink. "Should've thought that through before I waxed fucking lovey-dovey on you, huh?"

"Nah." Rick laughs. "It was a sweet gesture. Shows me you're not all dick jokes and the 'f' word."

Negan just flips him off, and then they decide it's time to retire to their room. The shower's screaming Rick's name, and he's sure Negan isn't far behind on that mentality. They've got a long next several days ahead of them, so maybe it's not a terrible idea to turn in a little early. The Sanctuary still has a lot that needs done, but Rick's okay with letting it slide until they get back.

Besides, they're just going to have to pick it all up again after they get married and spend some much needed time together.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're starting to reach the culmination of this fic! I'm really excited to have it all written out for you guys! I've had this thing planned for what feels like months, and it's been a blast to write it. I hope you all enjoy the last handful of chapters!

After avoiding runs for so long, going out now almost feels foreign. The gravelly, dry smell of the Sanctuary is nowhere to be found, and Rick knows that a bed is not something that they can openly expect out here in the middle of nowhere. He feels a little uncomfortable, but mostly for Negan’s sake. It honestly doesn’t matter how long Rick stays away from runs—he’s still going to be able to slip into a ready stance with no problem.

It’s just…Negan’s got a handicap. Against Lewis and his people, it wasn’t as bad. Lewis was delusional and his actions had been careless. But an entire camp of people could be a completely different story. Worse yet if they are upset over Lewis’ death. Rick has no idea how much trust they have invested in the guy, but he and Negan and the others need to go into this ready for the worst.

Negan seems confident enough. No surprise there—he goes into just about anything with ample confidence. But Rick sincerely hopes he’s prepared for something that could easily get intense. Rick himself has no problem covering Negan’s ass, as he’s been damn good at doing so for years now, but still.

They’ve got plenty of men. Negan, Rick, Simon, and Arat are the primary unit—the group that will be greeting the camp at the front door. Dwight has his own party, and they will be stationed at points around the camp’s perimeter, to serve as sharpshooters as well as signals in case things go sideways. A much larger smattering of men—sixteen at final count—will receive the signal and either move in or open fire depending upon the situation. If it all goes well, they should be fine.

But as of late, luck has chosen to be on their side at the very last minute, if at all.

At the same time, Rick has a lot to fight for now. He’s not about to just let shit happen. He’s got a feeling Negan has the same stance on the matter.

They’ve set up camp a couple of miles out. The downside to this whole thing is that Rick and Negan aren’t entirely aware of how far out members of the camp venture. Rick didn’t get to explore well enough to see if they spend more time hunting or gathering supplies, so there’s no telling whether someone’s out here with them or not. For that reason, they’re going to have plenty of people on watch. With twenty-four men present, Rick and Negan elect to put six of them on watch. Rick is quick to volunteer himself for the first shift.

And as per usual, Negan isn’t thrilled about it. He hasn’t been since Rick made the suggestion. And now that nighttime has worked its way over them, he’s still displeased.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping.” Rick’s smiling calmly, not bothered by Negan’s persistence. He’s used to it at this point. Hell, maybe even a little flattered by it.

“Yeah, well.” Negan’s pouting. For a big tough guy, he sure is good at pouting. “So are you.”

“No,” Rick rolls his eyes, “I’m not. I took watch, Negan.”

“I don’t give a shit.” Negan protests. “You’re gonna have to be awake tomorrow—alert.”

This might seem odd, but the argument is nothing new. Rick has no problem taking watch, and Negan always seems to think it’ll impede his performance the next day, despite plenty of experience that proves that it hasn’t. But Rick does understand this time. Tomorrow is going to be big. It has the potential to go just fine, but it can also go seriously awry.

But Rick can handle it, really. He appreciates Negan’s concern, but he’s honestly got this. It’s going to be okay, simply because it’s not allowed to go any _other_ way. It’s probably unrealistic, but Rick’s got plans after tomorrow. There’s no dying or getting captured or anything else. They’re getting Lucille and getting home.

If anyone can do this, it’s Rick when he’s got Negan’s welfare as incentive. He’s proven this countless times.

“Negan.” Rick, who has been walking the perimeter with Negan arguing with him in tow, turns and clasps his fingers around Negan’s shoulders. “Relax. I’ve got this. Do you honestly think I’d do anything to put either of us in danger?”

Negan narrows his eyes. “I think you don’t realize your own fucking limits sometimes.”

Rick sighs. “And I think you’re bein’ dramatic. Just go back to camp. Go to sleep.”

“Fuck no.” Negan, ever the stubborn one, stands his ground. “I’m not sleeping until you do.”

“Are you serious right now?” Rick argues. He motions to their group, most of which are fast asleep by now. “What do you expect me to tell them? That you’re more concerned about me than them, so I got to duck out of watch?”

Negan scowls. “Rick, I care about them, but this is _you_ we’re talking about. They know what you mean to me.”

“I’m not backin’ out of watch.” Rick crosses his arms. “That’s final.”

Negan doesn’t like that answer, but he doesn’t seem to be trying to retort anymore. Rick softens a little.

“Negan…” He smiles softly. “It’ll be alright. _I’ll_ be alright. I’ve got a lot to live for.”

“I know. I fucking know.” Negan’s hand comes up to rest on the side of Rick’s face, and he leans forward to touch their foreheads together. “I know I’m being selfish, Rick. It’s just…this is big. It could get bad.”

Rick brings his hand up and covers Negan’s own with it. “It won’t. We have a plan. We’ve thought this through a lot more than we think through most of our trips. It’s gonna be okay…alright?”

Negan hesitates, but eventually sighs in defeat. “Yeah…okay. I trust you. Just…don’t make me fucking regret doing so.”

“It’ll be fine.” Rick tips his head up and seals his promise with a kiss. He feels Negan’s fingers shiver beneath his hand and on the skin of his face, and he sighs pleasantly into the feeling. His free hand finds the front of Negan’s shirt and pulls him in closer, and Negan responds in kind. Their heads tilt in perfect unison to deepen the kiss, and before Rick knows it, his face has reddened a couple of shades and his body is starting to tingle with the onset of arousal.

Negan breaks off the kiss, and when he pulls back, it’s with a heavy smirk. “Shit…Baby, you keep that up and we might be getting it on like animals in heat out here.”

Negan’s got a point, so Rick doesn’t push them any further. Instead, he chuckles at Negan’s words. “No thank you. Not sure the guys will appreciate the noise.”

“You never know…” Negan waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “I’ve been kind of itching to show them I’ve still got it even missing an arm—”

“Go to bed, Negan.” Rick plants a hand on Negan’s face and shoves him back. “You’re startin’ to act delirious.”

“Hey,” Negan raises his shoulders, “you started this.”

“Yeah, well,” Rick smirks, “I’m endin’ it. Goodnight.”

Of course, Rick wouldn’t have minded a little romp right then and there, but Simon already has enough crap to give them, and now isn’t really the time. So Rick just retires to his watch while Negan finally heads to bed.

Despite his big tantrum, Negan doesn’t seem to have much trouble getting to sleep, and aside from the five other people helping with watch, Rick is left by himself, awake.

The night drawls on like molasses, and at one point, Rick actually finds himself wishing he’d taken Negan up on the persuasion for him to get some sleep. Nothing is going on. No infected, no enemy campers, not even a stray animal. It’s the kind of quiet Rick would normally find unnerving, but instead just gets bored with this time.

He eventually moves to take a seat next to where Negan is sleeping, allowing himself the liberty of watching down over the other man during his shift. Negan is a light sleeper, so Rick wouldn’t doubt if he knew he was being watched.

Holy hell, Rick just can’t process everything that has happened over the past couple of years. From the death of his family to the infection itself to finding Negan, getting to know Negan, wanting to protect Negan, falling in _love_ with Negan…it’s a lot to think about.

How does marriage even work in a time like now? Does Negan want a ceremony? Honeymoon? At least Rick can take some relief in the knowledge that they don’t have to spend a whole bunch of money, so if they have the right materials and supplies, they can just about do anything they want that doesn’t involve getting on a plane or a boat. Regardless of where they go or what they do, however, Rick doesn’t doubt Negan’s going to make it interesting.

Getting married after the end of the world almost feels twisted. Rick doesn’t think that people shouldn’t marry now anymore, but it’s odd. He almost expects the Universe to pop out of nowhere and inform him that they just don’t have time for that, but he supposes that’s to be expected.

But he still feels excited. There’s no courthouse to decide it or person to officiate it, but it’s as real as Rick and Negan want it to be.

Which is _very_ real.

Rick thinks about how rough life has been for both himself and Negan. The end of the world does that to people, but it’s still cruel. Negan and Rick both come from a vivid history of loss and regret and heavy bloodshed, and for some reason, it’s them. Two people who work flawlessly together, become tactically impervious when working in tandem, and who almost have a sixth sense for when one another is in danger. They’re a perfect team. They’re a perfect couple. Perfect husbands in such a horridly imperfect world 

“We’ll get through this just fine.” Rick reassures softly, regardless of whether Negan can hear him or not. “We’ll have Lucille back and be headin’ home before you know it.”

\- - - - -

_“This is goddamn amazing!” Negan’s voice is an exclaimed whisper, and in the dim light of the one lantern between the two men, his excited eyes and broad smile almost look frightening._

_Rick doesn’t agree, though. The building they’re currently holed up in is an abandoned nursing home, and it’s a lot for two men to try and maintain. They’ve only peeled through one of the two halls, and even though the building is in mostly good condition, Rick thinks it’s a bit much._

_But Negan wants to expand. Rick has heard him talk plenty of times now about taking on more group members. So he’s probably looking for a place to hole up with big groups in mind._

_Negan’s desire to grow is a recent development, but he’s pretty passionate about it. Up until recently, he’s been all about himself and Rick being the dynamic duo, the dream team that doesn’t need anyone else. Rick isn’t quite sure why he’s suddenly thinking about expanding._

_It isn’t a terrible idea, either. More bodies means a stronger defense, and if Rick and Negan run into a big group, they need to be able to defend themselves. It’s a tough pill to swallow, but two men aren’t invincible against fifty._

_But trust is a huge factor here. Rick trusts Negan not to put either of them in danger, but he doesn’t trust anyone else. He doubts he ever will. Rick feels like what happened with Nathaniel and his people will forever haunt the back of his mind, as a constant reiteration that people can’t be trusted, life will never always be perfect, and that nothing is permanent. It only takes one instance for life to come crumbling down around you. Just one tiny event can strip you of any hope._

_After realizing that his desire to be around Negan was more than just a search for companionship, Rick has become more paranoid than ever. He’d always wanted to make Negan a permanent fixture in his life, but now that the way he feels about Negan has gotten more intense, he’s growing increasingly more desperate for some stronger sense of protection for Negan._

_So far, nothing seems good enough, so Rick has resolved that he, himself, has to be good enough. And he’s got what it takes, too. He knows he’s perceptive and intuitive, and that he can think in a pinch. So long as he doesn’t let himself get distracted, Negan should be fine under his wing._

_And Rick is pretty proud of how he’s done thus far. Negan compliments him left and right, dick jokes and ruffled hair aplenty, and Rick eats it up like kibble. He loves Negan so incredibly much._

_“I dunno, Negan.” Rick’s carrying the lantern, while Negan holds Lucille, ready to bash in the skulls of any dead ones they happen to come across. “Isn’t it a little…big?” He prides himself in his ability to keep Negan grounded, but lately, that’s been a bit more of a challenge. Negan’s a man of big dreams, though. That’s just a part of who he is._

_“Oh, fuck yes.” Negan replies. “Too goddamn big. Two of us could never put this big-ass place to all its potential use.”_

_Rick knows where Negan is going with this. As a result, he says nothing._

_“But with more people, this place could be Heaven on Hell on Earth.”_

_“We don’t have more people.” Rick sighs. “And we can’t decide to let people sleep in the same building as us just to add bodies.”_

_“Course not.” Negan doesn’t seem bothered by Rick’s reluctance. “We’re not gonna let people stay here until we know they can be trusted.”_

_“That means it won’t be easy.” Rick reminds. “And until we manage to find these people, we’re gonna have to manage this place.”_

_Negan shrugs. “Rick, this is us we’re fucking talking about. We’ve got this.”_

_Rick isn’t convinced, but he also knows how Negan can get when he puts his mind to something. He’s not going to talk Negan out of this place. The only thing that’s going to divert him at this point is if their search of the rest of the building turns up something unsavory._

_“Hey.” Negan’s voice brings Rick back to reality, just in time for him to feel the other man’s fingers move to clasp around his own. He looks up at Negan, a little shocked by the gesture. “We fuckin’ got this, Rick. It’s not your run-of-the-mill goddamn establishment we’ve got going here. This is you and me—we’re fucking boss at keeping our shit together. We can line all the entrances with spikes, block off any doors we don’t use, and have all the rooms we can imagine to ourselves.”_

_Rick frowns, but can’t bring himself to do much in the vein of protest. Negan will always have that effect on him. Has long before feelings ever came into play. “…You’re serious about this, huh?”_

_“I am.” Negan answers, suddenly sobering the grin right off his face. “I mean, I fucking love this thing you and I have going, but we need more people. We can be the leaders and call the shots, but we’re not gonna last forever without numbers.”_

_What Negan says makes sense. It does. But Rick still has difficulty agreeing. More people means more monsters and less trust. Rick already sleeps with one eye open. He can’t imagine how much more nervous he’s going to become once their duo becomes a group._

_But Negan seems to value the idea considerably, and that’s got to mean something._

_Negan squeezes Rick’s hand, drawing his attention back up to those wild eyes. He glows in the darkness of the room, like the focal point in a painting. Rick softens immediately to the image._

_“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, Rick.” The determined look on Negan’s face tells Rick that he can believe him. And Rick trusts him. Negan is the only person Rick trusts. He can’t imagine that’ll ever change._

_But if Negan is so dead-set on expanding, there’s got to be something good that can come out of it._

_“…Me either.” Rick laces their fingers. “Let’s keep lookin’.”_

_\- - - - -_

Morning comes, finally, and everyone knows exactly what to do. The goal is to look like they have fewer people than they actually do. In theory, Rick, Negan, Simon, and Arat will be enough to get Lucille back. They will look more innocent and less armed if it’s just the four of them at first. They’re all armed, but any group, no matter how big or small, would be.

Worst case scenario, they get guns pointed at their heads and the rest of the plan moves into action. Signals from the sharpshooters result in whoever pointed the guns being shot on sight, and the shit hits the fan. People living in the camp die, but they still get Lucille back and get the hell out.

Rick does wonder somewhat how the rest of their group feels about going out here for a baseball bat of all things, but he doesn’t question it for long. It doesn’t really matter. Negan’s bent over backwards for them, so the least they could do is return the favor.

It’s a little scary, but there isn’t much in today’s world that isn’t.

Either way, Rick and the other three of the primary group go in by vehicle. Everyone else has left early to move in on foot. Rick spots a couple of them in position as they arrive at the entrance to the camp, so he knows that it’s now or never.

The late Lewis’ camp is sprawling, but a little too out in the open to really be considered safe. Frankly, Rick’s a little surprised that they haven’t been taken out sooner. He realizes that when he and Negan found them in that house, they were probably looking at it and the little line of other homes as a potential indoor spot for their camp. With Lewis gone, are they still doing the same?

Frankly, Rick doesn’t give a damn whether they are or not. If they’re cooperative and let them have Lucille and get out, he won’t be bothering that string of houses ever again. He doesn’t want to fight these people. He just wants to get what he came for and get on with his future with Negan.

Rick always has and always will be protective of Negan. The man’s earned it, to be completely honest. He saved Rick’s life. Dragged him all the way to a police station and cleaned him up. Talked to him like he was a friend from the beginning. Nevermind what Rick had done to Nathaniel, or that his family had been ripped right out from under him. He was never damaged in Negan’s eyes, and he was an equal even with all the baggage he’d had from the beginning.

Rick owes him the world for that.

Either way, they’re now staring at a tall gate that’s obviously been built up from an old farm entrance. It’s got barbed wire all over it, and the fence extending from it is no different. There’s no handle on the outside, making it obvious that anyone who returns to this camp has to be let in. Rick clears his throat and then inhales.

But the door opens before he can yell. He and Negan glance at one another, and Rick resists the urge to rest his hand on the revolver in his holster. The gate screeches loudly as it slides open, and then the four are greeted with two.

On the left is a woman with her dark hair neatly tied back into a ponytail. Next to her stands a short, stocky man with one of those shirts white men in movies wear to vacations. The man’s got a big, friendly smile on his face, but the woman next to him is all business. Rick feels her eyes on him, and then his gun, before she turns her stare to scrutinize her other three visitors.

“Good morning.” The man next to her greets, still all friendly smiles. “Not every day we get visitors. You guys looking for a place to hole up?”

This doesn’t feel right from the start. Rick maintains a calm expression himself, but he knows this isn’t how Lewis’ group operates. Even with Lewis dead, there’s no way they can just change in the short time they’ve been given. If Lewis was anything like Nathaniel, he would have been looking for people who can prove their worth, not just taking in anyone who knocks on their door.

Despite that, they’re not being fired at yet, so Rick keeps his head.

“Nah, we’ve got our own camp.” Negan answers honestly next to Rick, drawing the smaller man’s attention to him. Negan’s wearing his trademark smile, his hand tucked into his pocket. “It’s just, we lost something, and it’s real fucking important to us. We’ve got reason to believe you have it, and it’d be nice if you gave it back.”

The woman narrows her eyes. “A little presumptuous, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” Negan continues. Rick trusts that he knows what he’s doing. His words can get a little out of hand, though. “But it’s not much—just has sentimental value.”

“What is it?” The woman questions.

“A baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.” Negan responds.

The man at the gate grins even more widely than he already has been. “Actually, yeah! We do have that. Come with us—we’ve got no reason to hold onto it.”

The four exchange glances. Judging by the scrutiny on Arat’s and Simon’s faces, Rick can tell they don’t feel right about this, either. It just means they’re all going to have their guards up. As they follow the two inside, Rick adjusts a spot on his holster, signaling for those nearest him on watch to move in closer and be on high alert.

The inside of the camp looks about how Rick expected. There are tents scattered everywhere. Clothes are suspended on clotheslines next to them, and people move about with families and friends in tow. The ones closest to the gate have guns, but from the looks of it, most of them are unarmed. Just trying to live their lives. They look innocent enough, but Rick still can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to them than what he’s seeing.

Either way, they’re directed down a gravel path, toward a larger tent further into the camp. As they walk, the man who greeted them speaks up again.

“So, if you don’t mind my asking, how’d you lose your bat?”

He’s walking in front of Rick, but Rick gets the feeling that the practiced smile is not on his face right now. On instinct, Rick shifts a little closer to Negan, ready to act if necessary.

“How else?” Negan answers, so calm despite all the signs Rick feels should tell him to put his guard back up. “We were on a run—got into some trouble, and it got left in the crossfire.”

Rick wonders if Negan knows they’re already in hot water. This guy so obviously knows where the bat was found, and that means he knows that this group is partially responsible for Lewis’ death. They could be walking right into a trap. Hell, maybe these people already somehow knew that Negan valued this bat and would come back for it eventually.

“I suppose that makes sense.” The man answers as they enter the tent. Said tent is well-guarded, and when they step in, Rick can see why. This tent operates as their weapons cache. There are guns, knives, even grenades lining table after table. “In any case, I appreciate you coming by nonviolently. As thanks, you can have your bat back, no strings attached.”

They stop at a table about halfway in, and Rick sees why. Lucille is lying there, unharmed, atop the table. He feels Negan’s anticipation next to him as the woman picks it up by the handle and offers it to Negan. He takes it back, and despite his anxiety, smiles warmly at her.

“Thank you guys. You got no fucking clue how happy I am to have this back."

Next to him, Rick swallows thickly. This isn’t over. Even as they’re being led back out of the camp, he knows it isn’t over. It takes everything he has in him to keep from pointing a gun at this man’s head.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of an uneventful chapter here, but an important one nonetheless. Hope y'all enjoy!

It really doesn’t matter what’s going on right now—there’s no way they’re getting off this easily. There’s no way these people are walking Rick and Negan and their groupmates out of the camp like nothing just happened. There are too many red flags, and the people are being too friendly. The scrutinizing woman who greeted them seems to even be trying to restrain herself.

Even as they’re given a friendly farewell and allowed to load back up in the vehicle, Rick doesn’t feel right. He pivots in the vehicle as Arat drives them away, peering through the back window at the camp as it fades into the distance. His eyes narrow, and he doesn’t relax, even after Negan bumps his shoulder against him lightly.

“Rick,” Negan starts, and Rick can hear the concern in his voice, “you wanna sit down and tell me what the fuck the problem is?”

Rick doesn’t obey for a solid ten or so seconds, but eventually, he turns around and rests his back against the seat. Even sitting down, he doesn’t look the least bit okay with what they’re driving away from…or maybe into. That’s the scary part—Rick has no idea what these guys have up their sleeves. There’s a very good chance they were being watched last night, or even before that. It’d sure be shitty if it turned out they’d been keeping an eye on the Sanctuary ever since Lewis’ death, and already knew what the plan had been.

Rick feels naked and violated when he thinks about it that way.

“That was too easy.” Rick finally says as Negan’s stare focuses on him. “They’re not done with us. There’s no way they are.”

He turns his gaze up to Negan, who seems to take those words to heart. If there’s anyone who’s going to agree with him, it’ll be Negan. He and Rick have been a team for years, now. They’re both pretty trusting of one another’s intuition.

“I don’t disagree.” Negan says. “Kind of wish you hadn’t fucking thought so, though. Means we’re probably both right. I don’t want us to be right about this.”

Rick realizes as Negan speaks that his fiancée had been keeping his composure at the camp just a little bit ago. That smile on his face when he got Lucille back may have been genuine, but the thanks and the calm gestures following it…he wasn’t believing a single word coming out of their mouths.

And Negan had been hoping against hope that Rick would have thought differently, because then that would have offered up the chance that they didn’t still have their hands full here.

…That’s too bad.

“Now, hold on a second.” Simon turns around in the passenger’s seat. “I get that you guys have seen your fair share of dishonest folks, and believe-you-me, I have too, but maybe this is it. Maybe they really were just content giving dear, sweet Lucille back to a guy whose lost without her.”

Negan shakes his head. “Don’t be a dumbass, Simon. Those fuckers clearly saw right through us. If they’d found Lucille, they’d also found the bodies in the same building as her. Learning that we wanted her back was probably just putting the bullseye on our backs. They know now that we’re the guys who killed their leader. I know I’d be pretty fucking pissed if that happened to me.”

“Except Lewis was a shitty leader.” Rick points out. “I wish it was easy to believe they all hated him and were fine seein’ him die.”

“It’s probably better that it’s not easy.” Negan adds. “At this point, I’d have felt better if we’d have just opened fire on their asses—gone in the violent way. But we’re on our way back now, so the best thing we can do is keep our guards up and fuck up anyone who comes our way until we know the coast is clear.”

“That means makin’ more people take watch.” Rick nods. “And for no definite amount of time. We could be walkin’ on eggshells for the rest of our lives.”

“Hey, now.” Negan laughs. “That’s a little dramatic, babe.”

Rick doesn’t say anything. This situation still doesn’t feel right, and considering how torn up Rick is about it right now, he doesn’t imagine it’s going to feel good for quite a while.

\- - - - -

_The nursing home ends up being a giant bust. The search turns up an entirely desecrated hall, and with just Rick and Negan, they’re not going to be able to maintain barricades on doors, windows, and the huge gap in the side of the building._

_Rick feels a mixture of relief and disappointment, and next to him, Negan is pissed. He doesn’t say a word for miles, until they find themselves an old motel to camp out in for the night. The windows are all boarded up in most rooms, so they should be able to get by just fine for one evening._

_Rick is the first to speak up. “…I’m sorry, Negan.”_

_“Don’t want to talk about it.” Negan grumbles, way too focused on searching rooms for supplies. Rick doesn’t think there’s going to be much since this place seems to have been inhabited before…maybe it still is._

_“We’ll find somewhere else, you know. You said it yourself—this is us.”_

_Negan sighs. “I said I don’t fucking want to talk about it, Rick.”_

_“Well, I do.” Rick pushes while he rifles through one of the room’s dresser drawers. “I just want to make sure you know this isn’t the end of the world, that’s all.”_

_“Shut the fuck up, already!” Negan snaps, wheeling around._

_Rick doesn’t mean to recoil. He’s stronger than that, and he knows Negan has a temper to be reckoned with sometimes, but he guesses this is as much a moment of weakness for him as it is Negan. So he does—his shoulders hike up into the air and he ducks his head down, wincing. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips pulled downward into a wince._

_He sees Negan soften before the man can say anything else. He gawks at Rick, eyes wide, before his shoulders slump downward, and he frowns back into Rick’s eyes._

_“Shit…Rick, I’m sorry. I’m just…fucking stressed, okay?”_

_Rick doesn’t answer. He’s not so much hurt as he is just waiting for Negan to keep going, because he actually thinks the man’s going to talk to him about things, now. It was really only a matter of time, but in Rick’s honest opinion, now is better than later. Judgment gets clouded when the mind is occupied, after all, and in light of Negan’s most recent decision that they needed more eyes around them, he feels as if both their minds need to be as free as possible of distraction._

_On top of that, Negan doesn’t need to be the only one to deal with his issues right now. He’s got more than just a partner in crime in Rick. He’s got a friend—a trusted other half. Someone who knows him better than he knows himself at times. He doesn’t have to deal with this alone._

_“It’s just…I’m worried. I’ve got this shitty feeling like we’re gonna get caught with our pants down, and, Rick…”_

_Negan looks at Rick then with the most pitiful picture on his face. Like a kid who dropped his ice cream on the sidewalk, or a wife who got told her spouse died without getting to say goodbye. He looks devastated, and Rick’s heart aches something infernal at the sight._

_“I can’t lose you.”_

_Negan is a lot of things. He’s perverted and a little too wordy sometimes. He’s loud and obnoxious and enjoys his fair share of displays of violence. He’s cocky, and he’s an asshole. He’s got a temper from hell, and when he’s not brooding or cursing at everything left and right, he’s probably flirting with it._

_But this is the first time Rick’s ever seen him look genuinely distraught. He knew that they were inseparable, but he hadn’t expected Negan to look as if his heart was going to break simply at the thought of losing Rick._

_It feels out of character for him, but at the same time, somehow also so Negan._

_Rick moves in close and slides his arms around Negan’s waist. He waits for the taller man to reciprocate, and then hugs him as closely and gently as he can at the same time. Shamelessly, he buries his face in Negan’s jacket._

_“I’m not goin’ anywhere, Negan.” He reassures. His fingers trace comforting circles along the larger man’s back. It seems to be working, as Negan’s arms snake their way around Rick’s neck and he relaxes in his grip. “We’ve gotten this far, and we’ll keep goin’. Eventually, we’ll find more people, but we need to take our time with it. We’ll figure it out, okay? It’s gonna be fine.”_

_Negan puffs out such a long sigh that it almost sounds like his last breath. But soon enough, he inhales and starts speaking again. “…I know. I just guess I got disappointed. Fuck, I’m sorry.”_

_“It’s alright.” Rick pulls back. “That’s why you’ve got me to keep you in line._

_Negan smirks, bringing Rick some relief. “…Yeah, alright, yeah. I fucking guess that is a good reason to keep you around. What would I do without you, Rick Grimes?”_

_Rick shrugs. “Die, probably. Now, let’s go find a place to sleep.”_

_\- - - - -_

“We shouldn’t have led them back here.” Rick’s panicking, and he knows it. Normally, he’s the example of realistic and calm and natural, but not right now. Right now, he can’t get the thought that they’re going to end up dead out of his head. They drove all the way back to the Sanctuary, potentially leading the late Lewis’ campmates here. They can strengthen their guard all they want, but that doesn’t mean they’re safe.

The camp hid so much from them while they were there. There’s no telling what else they had to offer. What if their camp is actually multiple camps? What if their numbers aren’t unlike the Sanctuary’s? What if someone from there is already here and ready to cause a total shitstorm?

“Rick, calm down.” Negan’s frowning, though Rick only catches glimpses of it in his paces back and forth across Negan’s room. “You’re not doing any fucking good burning a hole into my floor. Look, we’ve got more people on watch. The entire perimeter is under _someone’s_ watchful eye right now, and I’m damn fucking tired. It’d be real nice if you’d get tired too and come sleep with me.”

That does nothing to reassure Rick. “I don’t know how you can be so okay with it. It’s probably you they’re after, and you’re missin’ an arm.”

“I’m fucking fine and dandy without my arm, thank you very much.” Rick catches the bite to Negan’s words. He doesn’t really blame the guy. “I’ve busted my ass trying to get on my feet so that if something like this _does_ happen, I’d be ready. I’ve got this, babe. Trust me.”

“I _do_ trust you.” Rick retorts. “I just don’t think you realize how bad this could get.”

“I think you’re blowing it out of proportion, Rick.”

Rick glares sharply down at the floor, though he does at least stop walking. “I just feel like it went too well. There’s a lot at stake, here.”

“We’ve got the numbers.”

“But we don’t know what numbers _they_ have.”

“It’ll be _fine._ ” Negan frowns. “Look, I don’t think it’s over yet either. But they’d be shit-stupid if they tried to attack right after we got home. They’re gonna wait until they think we’re comfortable, without a care in the fucking world, and _that’s_ when they’re gonna attack.”

It makes sense, but…damn. Rick doesn’t realize until now just how concerned about this whole thing he’s been, even before it’d started. He still doesn’t feel convinced, but he knows he needs to at least try and trust Negan’s words.

“We’ll spend all our time getting ready. We won’t let our guard down until we know we’ve got every last one of them.”

Negan’s reassurance is working, to some degree, so after a bit more contemplation, Rick caves. “…I hope you’re right.”

“I know I’m right.” Negan answers defiantly. “I don’t have any other choice but to be right here. There’s too much at stake.”

“…Yeah.”

“But for now, we’ve got our shit covered.” Negan continues. “Come to bed with me. You were a dick and kept watch last night and I’m feeling attention-starved.”

\- - - - -

_The subway is quiet, save for the grunts and snarls of the infected lurking outside. The men in the other cars are fast asleep, and Negan and Rick occupy the main car. Rick has just finished asking about Lucille, and he and Negan have spent the past half hour or so discussing her. It’s strange, how easy it was to uncover the information._

_And how easy it was for Rick to feel compelled to ask about her. Or rather, the bat. The conversation had led to her, but now that he knows her name came from an actual person, curiosity had kind of gone from there._

_Negan strangely didn’t have a problem telling Rick, and now, he feels like he knows him even better. He knows that Negan considers himself a piece of shit for losing his late wife, and he sees something in his eyes after the discussion. Like a pilot light inside an old water heater—dim, but burning. Rick doesn’t know exactly what it is—for once, he can’t read it like he can everything else about Negan._

_But he trusts it. He knows it’s got more to do with the present and the future than the past. He knows it’s got to do with the two of them, and with the lives they’re trying to lead together now. Rick loves him so incredibly much, and after about fifteen more minutes of silence, he decides to voice it._

_“Thank you so much, Negan.”_

_Negan, whose gaze has long-since reverted back to the cloudy subway window, returns his attention to Rick. “…For what?”_

_“For trustin’ me with that story.” Rick answers. His words come out softer than he intends, but they honestly sound better to him that way than they had in his mind. “It takes a lot to talk about that kind of stuff, and I’m glad I’m someone you feel comfortable talkin’ to about it.”_

_Negan doesn’t respond right away. A few seconds pass, with him presumably caught up in contemplation. But as he draws his focus back to the window, he shakes his head. “Couldn’t imagine I’m more fucking comfortable talking to anyone else but you, Rick.”_

_Rick doesn’t have to push for more to see it. Negan’s eyes tell the entire story. Rick is who he cares about now. Rick is the important one in his life. Rick is someone he’s going to die to protect, and who he’d share just about goddamn anything with. Rick is all he has left, and no amount of bodies they add to their camp can ever change that. It might not be the same as the kind of affection Rick feels for him, but he loves Rick._

_In his own way, he loves him._

_It makes Rick feel so much better about his own feelings. He’d never doubted them from the start, but they’re stronger now. Mutual ground operates as foundation, and Rick’s desire to be by Negan’s side increases ten-fold. He’s never going to let anyone hurt this man._

_He’s never going to fail him. Never ever is he going to make Negan regret the words he’s spoken today_

_Rick owes it to Negan, just as much as he owes it to Lucille._

_\- - - - -_

The intention to sleep has been long-since thrown by the wayside. Rick and Negan had finally crawled into Negan’s bed, exhausted from their long trip and longing to sleep on something soft and inviting, and they’d just about gone to sleep too. Rick had curled up with his back pressed tight against Negan’s chest, and as his body had grown heavy with sleep, he’d been ready to finally slip into unconsciousness.

And then Negan had gotten handsy. Not surprisingly, of course, but damn it.

They don’t jump right into it, though. What they’re doing is tantric and somehow so, so necessary. As Negan presses kisses to the inside of Rick’s elbow and up along his arm, he sighs pleasantly. Negan’s tongue darts out at his shoulder, wets a spot on it, and then he just barely sinks his teeth in. They’re stark naked against one another, bodies rocking together at an agonizingly slow pace while Negan worships every inch of Rick’s skin with his mouth.

This is what they can have once the nightmare with Lewis’ camp and his men is over. This will be their future. Negan peppering kisses all over Rick’s body, and Rick savoring the feeling of warm skin against warm skin. Tongues and lips and teeth tangling together in needy, breathless embraces. Fingers curled in hair, the gentle rustle of the bedsheets beneath them…

Rick digs his nails into Negan’s left shoulder blade, drawing a delightful inhale from Negan through gritted teeth. The larger man grins down at him and breaks off his exploration of Rick’s body to steal himself a kiss.

“I love you.” He proclaims softly, speaking the words right against Rick’s lips. Rick devours them, takes them into his lungs, and lets them envelop his entire being. He’s in love. He’s so, so in love.

“I love you too, Negan.” Rick’s words are barely audible, but judging by the onslaught of kisses that follow them, Rick figures it’s safe to assume the other man picked up on them. As Negan buries himself in Rick’s tight embrace, Rick holds on for dear life. He lets Negan’s hand roam his skin, and his mouth tease and taste and explore freely. He arches into the gentle tickle of lips and beard stubble on his torso and abdomen.

“You’re amazing.” Negan praises him, fingers dragging along a particularly aggressive scar—the one Rick had earned when he’d been shot before the world went to hell. “Lucille would be damn fucking proud of me if she could see what I found in you.”

Rick gasps, legs spreading, at a kiss to his inner thigh. “Y…You’re sentimental today.” Not that he minds. He knows Negan isn’t all surly, sarcastic vulgarities, anyway.

“I’m just realizing how fucking lucky I am, is all.” Negan replies, his hand giving Rick’s other thigh a squeeze. “All this time, you’ve been thinking about me. Last person who did that got sick and died.”

“You’re gonna ruin the moment.” Rick laughs.

“I’m not gonna let you die, Rick.” Negan either doesn’t hear Rick’s words or doesn’t care. “I owe it to both you and my late wife to make sure that that never happens.”

“…Shut up.” Rick can’t hide the affection in his voice, though. He doesn’t try particularly hard to, either. Instead, he just tugs Negan back up to eye level and pulls him down to bring their mouths together once more.

Any slow pace dies there. Rick opens himself up to Negan freely, lets the man fill him up full and deep. He revels in the soft brush of his skin against the sheets beneath him as Negan rocks into him, and the harsh panting that falls from the larger man’s lips and contrasts so well with the feeling. He gasps, grunts, moans Negan’s name, and comes apart in a way that only this man will ever see, and he loves that he can share that kind of sentiment with him.

They finish in unison, Negan cursing Rick’s name and somehow making it sound like the damn gospel that the same time. As he pulls out and dips down for more slow, desperate kisses, Rick chuckles languidly against the wet mouth on his own.

“You still got it, even with one arm.” Rick teases.

“You don’t get to say that.” Negan jokes back. “We didn’t start boning until after I lost this motherfucker.”

This is one of the things Rick loves most about Negan. He’s scared, alright? So very fucking scared of what’s going to happen tomorrow, or even in the middle of the night tonight. He doesn’t want to have given up everything he and Negan have worked towards over the past couple of years.

But Negan makes him forget about that kind of thing, even if only temporarily. He does it with his jokes, or that stupid grin on his face, or by making Rick come apart at the seams beneath him. He’s the fingers to Rick’s instrument, and goddamn, can he play.

Things are probably going to go to hell in a handbasket soon. But as long as Negan’s there, sporting that flighty overconfidence and the occasional dick joke, Rick feels like they’re going to get through it.

It might not be okay, but it probably will be. Only Negan could make Rick believe in something as unorthodox as that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who may not recall, there was a subway flashback during Negan's half of this fic. I believe it was in chapter seven or eight, if memory serves correctly.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, the last chapter was a bit of a reprieve, but we're in home stretch now. Hope y'all enjoy!

The next week is unbearably quiet. Rick and Negan go about their days at the Sanctuary as if nothing is happening, but even taking into account all the reassurance Negan spent time giving Rick, they’re both waiting with bated breath for something to happen. They both know better than to think the people back at that camp are through with them, but with the ability to play catchup on everything that’s going on back home seemingly without a hitch, it’s growing a little bit challenging to believe.

Rick finds he doesn’t think much about it when he’s working, so he spends most of his time doing so, while Negan takes the more stressful route of discussing with their defense team on how to keep their guards up. It operates smoothly enough, the only downside being that nobody is currently being sent on runs to avoid conflict, and their supply stock is going to take a hit for it.

That’s been an issue even before the conflict with the late Lewis and his people. Rick and Negan have been skirting around it for a handful of months now, but once this period of silence and the following shitstorm are over, they know they’re going to have to confront it head-on. The hard truth is that the Sanctuary is a massive community now, and with the large population living there, supplies will dwindle quickly without any flowing in.

And there’s no telling how long they’re going to be waiting for these people from this camp to show up.

One night, Rick brings up the suggestion that they go to the camp and take the situation on to avoid waiting for too long, but Negan isn’t so sure that’s a good idea.

“They’re probably waiting with their thumbs up their asses for us to do just fucking that, Rick.” Negan reminds, and Rick honestly agrees, even though he doesn’t like the idea. “Hell, there’s probably a lot they’ve planned on us doing. Looking back on it, they probably kept Lucille just because they knew we’d come looking for her.”

They haven’t buried Lucille yet. She rests atop the coffee table in their now-shared bedroom, untouched but heavily watched. Negan has decided that he’ll probably need her once the shit finally does decide to hit the fan, and that they can wait to give her her funeral after it’s all said and done.

“I know.” Rick growls, frustrated. “They know they’re drivin’ us crazy, and they’re probably laughin’ about it. But if they’ve got us just where they want us, then no matter what we do, it’s gonna be bad.”

“…Yeah.” Negan nods in agreement.

“So, I say we confront them somehow and get it over with. We’re gonna lose people either way.”

“You want to know what cracks me the fuck up?” There’s a sort of bitter, high-strung amusement to Negan’s voice as he speaks up. When Rick regards him, he sees disgust on his face. “It’s that we’ve got hundreds of people living here. Our camp is probably bigger than any in the near vicinity. And here we are, fucking pissing ourselves over a group of probably fifty or sixty.”’

“ _Probably_ is the problem.” Rick answers, almost defensively. As much as he’d like for them to be wrong and the group be small and punitive and harmless, it’d be pretty damned embarrassing to have everyone worked up over virtually nothing. But there are still a lot of unanswered questions, anyway. “We don’t know how many they have. We don’t know what they’re plannin’. We don’t know if they’re worthless, or if they already have us beat without us even realizin’ it. I just want everyone to be safe.”

“I know you do, baby.” Negan sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “You’re just looking out for us. And I know you’re not crazy about the idea of strolling right the fuck back up to their turf and right into the danger zone, as much as you feel it needs to be done. I get where you’re coming from with it, though. Keep them out of the Sanctuary—makes perfect sense. But you gotta hear me out.”

Rick sees something in Negan’s eyes. It’s a desperation, or maybe a heavy contemplation. Either way, it’s made clear in that stare that Rick isn’t the only one who’s been spending a lot of his time working himself up about what the camp has planned for him.

“That guy’s smile scares the _fuck_ out of me.” Negan finally says, and Rick sees him sink his teeth hard into his lower lip. “It was like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like he knew exactly what we were gonna do and what we’re gonna do now. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a rat somewhere in here helping him. It’s taking everything in me not to line people up like fucking sheep and interrogate them until I know for sure.”

Rick takes a seat on the edge of their bed, eyes fixed on the man now pacing the bedroom floor. It occurs to him that Negan’s a lot more nervous about this whole thing than he’s been letting on. Knowing Negan, he’s been trying to keep his own paranoia in check for Rick’s sake, because they both know Rick’s always thinking about the worse side of humanity.

But Negan knows just as well as Rick does that this situation isn’t what it seems, and the fact that they’re in agreement on it makes it an even harder pill to swallow.

“I feel like we need to wait.” Negan adds, after some hesitation. “We know our way around here—this is our turf. If there’s anywhere we’re gonna have an advantage, it’s here. In the meantime, we watch our people like fucking hawks, and make damn sure they know where their loyalties lie.”

Rick leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “…Yeah. You’re right.”

Strangely, Rick hasn’t thought about the prospect of there being someone within the walls of the Sanctuary, feeding this other camp information, but now that he thinks about it, Negan is probably right on that count.

“We know from experience that Simon is loyal.” Rick decides, recalling the time Simon had helped the two Sanctuary leaders stop an attack on them by Amber and Mark and their little ragtag group of misbehavers. “He’s not goin’ on runs, so we can send him on rounds instead. He sees anyone step so much as one toenail out of line, he’ll come to us. We can get to the bottom of it.”

“Yeah.” Negan agrees. “Maybe we’ll sniff out our rat that way.”

But as it turns out, the conclusion that they have a double agent in their camp only makes the two men even more nervous. Simon still thinks they’re being ridiculous, and he tries to remind them that the Sanctuary out-populates any camp for miles, but they don’t feel any better. Despite it, Simon trusts their intuition and does as he’s told, and in the process, Rick and Negan strengthen guards at the gate. No one is to come in or go out without clearance from the leaders themselves.

However, another week passes just as uneventfully as the last. Simon obediently goes on rounds, while everyone else follows the new, more strict guidelines to a ‘T’, out of fear of what retaliation the now-high-strung leaders might end up committing. No one leaves or enters the Sanctuary, supplies drain, and there’s neither hide nor hair of a smiley man in a vacation button-up shirt or his snarky sidekick. It’s just…the Sanctuary, almost exactly like it was before Negan lost his arm.

Simon confronts Rick and Negan at the beginning of the third week. He finds them both watching over the supply room, pensive looks on their faces and frustration crinkling both their brows. Rick sees Simon first, and his expression relaxes somewhat. He raises a hand to wave to the other man, but Negan speaks up before he can offer any sort of greeting.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on rounds?” The older man says, making both Rick and Simon cringe a little. Understandably, Simon fears the present Negan, who is more on edge than ever.

“I just got done with the twelfth one today.” Simon says firmly, despite himself. Rick waits with ample patience, trying to make up for his fiancée and his less friendly demeanor. “I’m exhausted, and there isn’t _shit_ going on out there. Could you just let me talk to you for a hot second?”

Rick reaches out and closes his hand around Negan’s, turning his head to peer up at him. He makes sure to keep a level of sternness on his face, but his expression is mostly soft. He doesn’t mean any harm, but he thinks Simon has earned a chance to discuss things with them. His eyes speak these words, and even though he doesn’t say them, Negan picks up on them.

He sighs. “…Yeah. Yeah, okay. C’mon, Simon.”

Negan leads them both to an office on the same floor, where a desk is piled with papers, including the maps Rick had used his photographic memory to draw for them to use during their last mission. Frankly, Rick’s kind of surprised the guy hasn’t burned them after all that’s happened.

Either way, he takes a seat at the desk, and on instinct, Rick moves to stand beside him. Simon glances about awkwardly, but then takes a seat on a chair directly in front of the desk. Rick thinks this feels a little out of place—almost like Simon is interviewing for a job rather than talking to them about something.

But he doesn’t seem to care. Instead, he speaks up. “I don’t believe we’re in any danger.” He looks up to meet Negan’s eyes, and when Rick looks at his partner, he sees those eyes staring right back into Simon’s. It’s rare for Simon to look this serious, but he sure does right now, and Rick takes note of it. That’s got to mean something, and this whole thing is obviously important to Simon.

“You’ve never gotten like this over other groups before.” Simon explains. “You’ve both always been confident that you’ve got this, and you’re always blissfully unaware of the fact that if you go out alone, you’re outnumbered. And now, you’re guarding doors and acting like everyone but you is the enemy. It’s not fair.”

Rick bites his lip, listening on as Simon keeps speaking.

“People are getting scared, guys. They didn’t ask for this. And if you really want to get technical and assume this other group is out to destroy us, they probably already are.” Simon narrows his eyes. “Keep going at this rate, and you’re going to be seen as the bad guys and this place is going to crumble. If I’m being completely honest, I really don’t want to see that shit happen, okay?”

Simon’s got a point, and the softer side of Rick—the one normally reserved for Negan after everything involving his family and Nathaniel and Lewis—feels guilty almost immediately after Simon finishes his story. Even if they _do_ feel like they’re in danger, that isn’t the entire Sanctuary’s fault. There are families here, and with supplies dwindling, they’re about to be made to suffer.

“We can’t keep going on like this, guys.” Simon continues. “Look, I’ve got your back with whatever you decide to do, but keep in mind that none of what we’re doing is going to do any good. You’re just feeding the fire.”

When Rick turns his attention back to Negan, he sees pensiveness on his face. The larger man has drawn his thumb up to his chin, and his gaze is focused sharply down at the desk beneath him. Rick can tell he knows Simon’s right, but he gets it. It’s easier said than done, especially with the fear that the minute they let their guard down, everything’s going to go awry.

Eventually, Negan sighs in defeat. “I know, man. I know you’re right. And maybe we are blowing this shit way out of the fucking water, but what else are we supposed to do?”

Simon shrugs. “You keep your cool and wait for the action to happen. We’ve got enough people here that they don’t stand a chance.” He releases a long sigh afterward, however. “Doesn’t mean nobody’s going to die, but that’s gonna happen either way.”

Rick nods. “Yeah. Guess we can’t prevent every little bad thing from happenin’. We’re already startin’ to run low on things.”

“Have been for a while, truthfully.” Negan admits.

“So send someone on a run.” Simon suggests. “Take a bigger group, but keep most of your stronger men here. Surely, these guys can’t know everywhere we’re gonna go on runs.”

“You’re probably right.” Negan concedes. “But just know this shit doesn’t sit right in the back of my fucking throat. We’ll send someone out in the morning. I’m not about to tell you to stop making rounds, but you can cut the amount of them in half. That’s all you’re getting from me, Simon.”

Simon looks oddly satisfied, though. “That’s fair, boss. Just glad you heard me out.”

Negan scoffs. “Better be. Asshole.”

“Takes one to know one.” Simon flips him off, and as he departs the room, Rick feels the air around them grow lighter. He and Negan exchange glances, and then decide it’s time to go figure out who’s going on a run in the morning. They don’t have to send out more than one group of people for now, at least. Just enough to slow down the dwindling of supplies.

For once, they don’t feel compelled to go out and do so themselves. They both live in the fear that the minute they’re gone, things are going to go nuts.

\- - - - -

_Rick doesn’t know why the sight hurts him so much, but it does. He’s sitting on a couch in the living room of a house he, Negan, and their people have decided to raid. The family inhabiting the house had been infected, but not dead yet, and that had been a good sign that searching the place might turn up something good. And indeed it fucking did._

_Their group probably takes significantly more than what other groups take. Food and toiletries are probably at the top of the list, but with the sheer volume of people they now have in their pack, they can fit more into vehicles and backpacks. Things like videogame consoles and small pictures get taken, as well as medicines, paint, writing and drawing supplies, and other simpler things._

_They’ve been lucky so far, too. Not all their raids have been fruitful, but they’ve been more fortunate than they probably should be. Maybe they chose a good route or something, but most of the homes they’ve come across haven’t been raided yet. It almost feels a little too good to be true._

_And hell, maybe this is their punishment. Or for whatever reason, Rick’s. He’s staring at the family, who are now crumpled on a dead heap on the ground, matching bullet holes in each of their foreheads. Rick knows it was something that had to be done, and he was one of the ones to pull the trigger, but that doesn’t make it any harder to see. It’s no real challenge for him to kill off a few deadies from time to time, but this is different._

_A wife, a husband, and their son._

_Rick hasn’t told Negan exactly what happened with his family, and Negan has thankfully not decided to pry into it any further than Rick cares to let him. He knows Rick’s family is dead, and he knows the group that did it is on Rick’s shit list, but that’s about all Rick wants to divulge just yet._

_And it’s because of reasons like this. He trusts Negan so faithfully, but he doesn’t want to be treated like a weakling over situations like this one. They’re not going to stop running into this kind of thing, and Rick just needs time to desensitize to it all, but that doesn’t make it any easier to take._

_Negan, who has been upstairs, comes down just as Rick is reaching out for the couple’s wedding bands._

_“Damn, you should see the fucking haul we got upstairs!” Negan cheers, but his excitement disappears when his and Rick’s eyes meet. “…Rick. Hey, what’s going on?”_

_The excited pitter-patter down the stairs gives way to a slow pace—the very same one Rick didn’t want to see from him. He can’t tell Negan about Nathaniel and Lewis, or about the reason he was kicked from the group, and he sure as shit doesn’t want to be met with that pitying expression. It’s a look unlike one Negan gives to anyone else, and while Rick should be flattered that the guy’s offering it to him, he only feels more wary._

_He’s tired of letting this weaken him._

_“…The wedding ring.” Rick tries, only slightly diverting the subject. He’s fine talking about his wife and family. It’s the rest of the subject he wants to avoid. “It looked a lot like my wife’s. So I’m keepin’ them.”_

_Rick hasn’t discarded his own wedding ring yet, but he’s contemplated it. Maybe it’ll be the step he needs to take to get stronger. But that’s obviously far more easily said than done. It takes a lot more than just telling oneself to do it to get it done._

_Negan’s soft expression doesn’t disappear. “…Shit, I’m sorry. Do you need to talk about it, Rick?”_

_This is what Negan does. He gently pushes for Rick to open up, but never seems to want to make him do so. It’s probably because he knows how hard it is to lose someone, considering Lucille and all. Either way, Rick thinks the world of him for it. But he shakes his head regardless of the fact._

_“I’d rather not.” He admits, though he dares a smile. “But thank you, Negan. Dunno what I’d do without you.”_

_Negan takes a seat on the couch next to him and holds out a hand. “Mind if I have a look-see?”_

_At first, Rick is a little hesitant, but he eventually offers up both bands and watches as Negan turns them over in his fingers._

_“Yeah, this looks a lot like Lucille’s, too. Small rock, because Lucille was being all minimalist on me around that fucking time. She kept claiming she didn’t want me to blow my life savings on a piece of metal going around her finger, when I honestly wished I could bottle up the world and put it there instead.”_

_Rick wonders how Negan can speak so openly about everything that has happened, and admires him all at the same time. When he thinks about Lucille not pushing for a big, fancy wedding ring, he thinks about the time he slipped Lori’s ring on her finger, and the total shitstorm that was their honeymoon. A smile finds its way onto his lips._

_“Lori knew we couldn’t afford much at the time—she was really just happy to tie the knot.” Rick laughs. “We couldn’t plan a big honeymoon, so we just went on a road trip up north. Weren’t smart enough to book our reservation in advance, so we ended up just cruisin’ the main drag of the city lookin’ for a place to stay.”_

_“Oh, shit.” Negan barks out a laugh of his own. “That’s hell in a handbasket, Rick. You ever find a place?”_

_“Yeah.” Rick smiles fondly. “Had to talk Lori into stayin’ though, since there was a ‘beware of dog’ sign at the front door.”_

_“Jesus.” Negan snorts. “Did you guys do anything fun after?”_

_“We were desperate to stay out of that hotel as much as possible.” Rick answers. “So we tried a few restaurants, went to the mall, saw ‘Silence of the Lambs’ at a downtown theater…”_

_Negan’s trying—and failing—not to laugh too hard, but Rick doesn’t mind. He’s bringing some humor to the situation in doing so, and frankly, Rick likes to hear him laugh. It’s one of the many things he’s learned to adore about the guy._

_The laughter eventually dies away, though. “You’re something else, Rick Grimes. The best part is I can totally fucking see you taking your woman out on a honeymoon like that.”_

_Negan takes Rick’s hand into his own—the one with the wedding band on his finger—letting the palm rest atop his own upturned fingers. Rick, shocked by the sudden gesture, turns to look the larger man in the eyes, and when he sees nothing but deep contemplation on the man’s face, he grows nervous. What’s going on in his head? Normally, Rick can pick up on that kind of thing, but this time, it’s like he’s looking at blank pages in a book and trying to come up with answers out of nothing._

_“You should take it off.” As if following his words, Negan gently tugs the band from Rick’s ring finger and pockets it. He offers the other two rings back to his partner, however._

_“Why?” Rick frowns._

_“You don’t have to get rid of it.” Negan reassures. “Just put it somewhere where it isn’t a constant reminder. Trust me, I know how fucking hard it is to let something go like this.” He raises his left hand, where Rick notices for the first time that he’s not wearing his wedding band. “But they’re dead, Rick. You can’t go back to them. It’s that simple.”_

_Rick turns his gaze to his lap, pulling his hand from Negan’s grip, and looks at the rings sitting in his palms. They feel somehow lighter with his own ring missing from his finger, but it’s strange. It’s cathartic. These aren’t Rick’s rings. They’re this couple’s._

_He bites his lip, before tossing the two rings back down onto the ground in front of the corpses. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he stands up and brings his attention to Negan._

_“…Are we ready to go?”_

_\- - - - -_

“This is crazy, Lori.” Rick’s standing out in the early evening, at his late wife’s grave. He knows her body isn’t really there, but Negan has managed to generate such an atmosphere that it actually feels like he’s talking to her. He doesn’t bother trying to wonder if she can hear him or not. It’s just nice to be able to speak to someone without bombarding the already-stressed Negan.

It’s tough to wrap his head around, but looking back on that memory, Rick sees what Negan was trying to do. He wasn’t straightforward about it, probably because he feared that Rick was too unstable at the time to be able to handle much bluntness, but Rick gets it now. Thinking about it, he understands.

Nothing is permanent. You can cling to something, but that doesn’t make it stay. Rick knows that Negan doesn’t want to lose him, but he knows it could happen. After so long tiptoeing around the fact that their relationship has always been a little on the obsessed side, it’s time to accept that marriage is going to settle that down.

Simply put, it’s time to accept that one of them is going to die before the other at some point. Be it of old age, or of infection, or being murdered by one of the people from the camp they’ve been worrying about—it’s doomed to happen at some point.

Rick had honestly thought he’d taken his life with Lori and Carl for granted. And maybe he had. But life had been easier back then, because he hadn’t been in a perpetual state of worrying about whether they were going to die or not.

Looking back, he’s been protecting Negan as if he might lose him any minute. And if they’re going to get married, he can’t do that anymore. He has to take the next step. He has to be ready for anything, and to be willing to take on whatever might come after it if Negan were to die. The people here at the Sanctuary will need him.

Or vice versa.

Rick wonders what Negan thinks now, after giving him that advice so long ago. He doesn’t know when the other man’s feelings had drifted toward the romantic, but he does know that they are now. Negan may or may not have had feelings for Rick on the day they’d discussed their wedding rings, but that says nothing in terms of the way he’s handling it now. His own nervousness about their current situation is telling, and Rick almost feels like he needs to discuss the same thing Negan discussed with him so long ago today.

“I’m not doin’ it because I don’t love you anymore, alright?” Rick continues, smiling serenely down at the makeshift headstone. “I love you so much—just as much as I did before all this happened. Wish I could’ve said a real goodbye. But I’m remarrying now. I won’t lie,” he laughs, “you would probably have to get used to this guy. But I think after you did, you’d love him as much as I do. He’s a good person—always been there for me. He saved my life.”

Rick turns his focus to Carl’s headstone. “You’d like him, too. He’d probably really like your attitude.”

There’s a long pause, before Rick releases a heavy sigh and shakes his head. “I love you two more than you’ll ever know. I’m always gonna be thinkin’ about you, but I know you’d want me to move on. And I think I’ve figured out how to do that. I think it’s gonna be great.”

He knows he’ll be paying them regular visits as he takes the next step in his life, and once he’s satisfied, he bids them his goodbyes and moves to stop at Lucille’s grave. Even though she’s not buried yet, he talks to her just as he had his wife and son.

“Negan talks the world of you.” He starts, and as he does so, he realizes he’s beaming. “I don’t think he’s ever gonna forget about you. You were the first love of his life, and from what he tells me, it’s for good reason. You sound like fun to be around. I just…” Even though he doubts Lucille can actually see him, he finds himself scratching nervously at the back of his neck. “I just want to thank you for being with him. He seems to have learned a lot from bein’ with you. He’s an asshole, but he’s a real good person, and even though I didn’t know you guys when you were married, I really feel like you played a part in that. So…thanks, Lucille. I’ll be talkin’ to you later, okay?”

The walk back to Negan’s room is exhausting. Rick feels like he poured his heart out to the graves outside in that little area, and now that all of that stress is off his shoulders, he just wants to get back upstairs, curl his arms around Negan’s waist, and spend the rest of the night engulfed in the very man who made him a better person.

He thinks that maybe he’s going to ask Negan to give him his ring back, too. He wants to bury it in front of Lori’s grave. And hell, maybe Negan will want to bury his with Lucille. They both seem to find some release in this new cemetery, after all.

And there’s also discussing the memory with Negan. Rick wonders if he even remembers. He hopes he does, but if not, he remembers exactly how to explain it. Negan’ll understand, no problem.

All of this, however, is forgotten when Rick opens the door and finds Negan sitting at his couch with Rick’s revolver pointed at his skull. He sees Negan’s expression grow grim, and his breath catches in his throat when Negan moves to stand up and the man pointing the gun smacks the handle of it hard against the remainder of his right shoulder. Negan cries out in pain and hits the couch once more.

“You fucking shithead…!” Negan growls through the pain that flushes red on his face and in his eyes.

Rick feels it too. He wants nothing more than to turn that gun on the attacker’s head and blow his brains out.

Said attacker is none other than the man they’d met at the gate back at that camp. He’s sporting a vacation shirt of a bluish color this time, and that same placid smile on his face. Rick can tell at a second glance that it’s a smile he’s practiced for a long time. Rick and Negan aren’t the first ones to receive the look.

Either way, he nods to the chair across the coffee table from himself and Negan.

“Sit down, Rick.” The man says. “I believe it’s time I introduced myself.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait! Between Regan week and my two jobs, I've been pretty overwhelmed. But I'm starting to adapt, and hopefully, I can keep up with a more regular schedule. Not gonna make any promises since I'm literal shit at keeping up with them, but I can definitely say I haven't abandoned this story. In fact, I'm quite excited to get it all rolled out! We're so close to the ending, it's crazy.
> 
> Hope you guys still like it!

Rick’s in the literal shittiest of shitty situations. Negan is being held at gunpoint, wincing painfully after a harsh blow to a right shoulder that apparently isn’t done healing. The man holding him at gunpoint has somehow infiltrated the Sanctuary without a hitch, and the placid smile on his face tells Rick he’s even more dangerous than he and Negan had been panicking about all this time. On top of that, Rick knows they aren’t the only people in the room. He’s had a sense for this kind of thing ever since Negan saved his life and his protective instincts decided to kick in.

The click of a gun behind his head tells Rick he’s right.

“You heard the man.” Rick recognizes the voice. It belongs to the woman who had accompanied the vacation-shirt-clad man at the gate to the late Lewis’ camp. Her tone is even more fiery and vindictive than before. Not that Rick cares.

The room feels ice cold. Negan’s normally-self-satisfied expression is wracked with pain and fear. It reminds Rick of the way he’d looked at him right before Lewis had taken a machete to his arm—desperate and frightened, but not for his own life. Rick doesn’t have a doubt in his mind that Negan is worried about him right now, because Rick knows that Negan sees him as his life, much like Rick himself sees Negan. They can preach all they want about learning not to be overprotective with one another, but old habits die hard, and love doesn’t often lighten a heart in a situation like this one.

So despite any earlier promises, and without regard to the terror of their standoff with these people, Rick finds himself doing what he always does when Negan’s life is on the line.

He’s thinking about how he’s going to kill these people.

**\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---**

_Negan looks like hell. He’s lying, unconscious, in a hospital bed. He’s got an IV hooked up to his remaining arm, a blood pressure cuff set on a timer, and the single most pitiful expression on his face. His cheeks and ears are flushed, and his breathing labored. He looks like he could overheat and die any minute._

_Rick hasn’t slept since he and Negan returned to the Sanctuary. He’s too afraid to. Even if he wanted to try, he doubts he’d be able to. He’s exhausted, but his mind is wide awake. His limbs feel heavy, but probably nothing compared to how Negan feels. Rick is too paranoid to sleep. He just knows that the instant he falls asleep, Negan is going to give up and die on him. And Rick can’t have that. He can’t do it again._

_He feels so desperate, and so emotional. He almost feels as if he could cry, but his body is too tired for that. He conserves what energy he has left for the sake of protecting Negan. Because somehow, Rick’s presence is going to keep Negan alive._

_No, it doesn’t work that way, but Rick is desperate._

_“C’mon…” Rick begs, and the rasp in his voice surprises him. “Negan, you can’t do this to me. Not after all we’ve been through.” And it’s true. Rick can’t afford to lose Negan this far into the game. He’s in too deep. He can’t afford to lose someone so close to him. Negan is quite literally the only thing he has left. There’s no way he can bounce back after this. Lori and Carl were hard enough. Negan? The guy who reminded him that life was still possible?_

_Rick will die. He can’t do this without Negan._

_It’s embarrassing, and also kind of pathetic, how Rick finds himself regretting he never told Negan his feelings before all this happened. Maybe, he’d always just subconsciously felt that Negan knew. Their behaviors together have always been borderline romantic, anyway. Hugs, holding hands, Negan kissing Rick’s temple or the nape of his neck. The only thing that’s missing is an actual, legitimate kiss. A point Rick had never pushed to happen, but wouldn’t have stopped if it did._

_And now, it’s all Rick wants. It’s tempting to wax all cliché like in the movies and go plant one on Negan right now, but it won’t do any damn good if the guy can’t answer back somehow._

_An unconscious Negan is so different from a conscious one. There are no jokes, and no vulgarities. No smirks or random bursts of hyper-intuitive thinking. Negan is just silent, his mind on pause while his body battles infection and blood loss. He’s all but dying, his quivering, panting form so clammy and weak and frail compared to the man that exists outside of the coma._

_Rick catches himself speaking again, as if his words are making an ounce of difference._

_“I bet you’re in a lot of pain, huh?” He starts, a despaired scowl on his lips. “I sure would be. Can’t imagine what you’re goin’ through right now. And hell, maybe that’s part of the battle for you. I dunno if you can hear me, but I know it must be hard knowin’ you’re gonna wake up with only one arm. But, Negan, I’m not goin’ anywhere, okay? I’m gonna help you. You’re so strong that you probably don’t need any help. But I’m gonna be here anyway. Couldn’t not be. I just…really need you to wake up. Negan…I miss you so goddamn much…”_

_He drifts off there, but not because he’s done talking. He senses another presence and decides to regard them. He turns his head up to see Simon standing in the doorway._

_“You’re good.” Simon says peacefully. “Don’t stop on my account. Just came by to check on the Boss Man. And his boyfriend.”_

_Rick ignores the second comment. “He’s still out.”_

_“That sucks so much.” The words sound almost sarcastic, but Simon’s expression—one of dismay—defies his tone. “This place isn’t the same without his big mouth running all the damn time.”_

_Rick nods, and then Simon’s expression grows stern._

_“You haven’t left this room in days.” Simon observes aloud. “Except maybe for the bathroom.”_

_Rick shrugs._

_“You need to sleep. Look, one night—just one—will do you wonders.” Simon actually sounds like he’s pleading. “If it makes you feel any better, camp out right here. You’re a light as fuck sleeper. You could easily catch a few zees and be able to know if something changes.”_

_“I can’t.” Rick shakes his head, and when Simon opens his mouth to retort, Rick brings a hand into the air to silence him. “I mean, I physically can’t. My body won’t let me.”_

_Simon frowns. “You keep it up like this, and you’re gonna end up in a hospital bed just like him.”_

_Rick’s only response is a sigh, and then a defeated, “I can’t help it.”_

_“Do you think he’d want you freaking out over him like this?” Simon asks, and even Rick has to admit it’s a logical question. He doesn’t say anything. “He’d probably deck you if he knew you were losing sleep over him. You’ve got shit to be doing. He’d just see this as a waste of time.”_

_“He doesn’t get a say until he wakes up.” Rick churns out bitterly._

_Simon glares icily at him. “You’re not supposed to say selfish shit like that. Guess the Boss is starting to wear off on you.”_

_Rick shrugs again._

**\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---**

Rick takes a seat across the coffee table from the couch Negan is perched on. Their eyes meet, and Rick can tell Negan is silently imploring that they have to do something. What exactly, is beyond Rick, but he’s determined to figure _something_ out.

“Good.” Vacation Shirt says, even though he doesn’t lower his—or Rick’s, rather—weapon. “Now, my name’s Dallas, and the lady goes by Rosa. I know you’re Rick,” he nods to Rick, “and this guy is Negan.”

“Shut up.” Negan barks. “Just get to the point. We killed your leader and now you’re butthurt.”

“Oh, come on.” Dallas rolls his eyes. “I don’t give a damn about Lewis. He was an ass. Deserved to die, as far as I’m concerned. But the people you killed the last time you ran into him? They didn’t need to die.”

“Bullshit.” Negan retorts. “They would’ve killed my people if we hadn’t killed them.”

“True.” Dallas answers, gun still trained on Negan’s skull. “Classic Dog Eat Dog World situation. But that doesn’t make you any less screwed. My daughter was among the victims.”

Rick and Negan both fall silent.

“Y’know,” Dallas continues, “I get it. You had no idea. You were just doing what it took to survive. Only problem is, that doesn’t make my daughter any less dead. So naturally, I’m going to have to do something about it.”

Rick thinks about the calm, practiced smile on this man’s face. How can he manage it and still think about losing a child at the same time?

“Look,” Rick tries, “I can tell you from experience that killin’ someone for revenge doesn’t fix anything. That’s why I killed Nathaniel and Lewis, and it didn’t bring anyone back. It didn’t make it feel any better.” He doesn’t dare add that Negan is what made him feel better.

“But you did it anyway.” Dallas points out—something Rick can’t argue with.

“So, what are you gonna do?” Negan questions bluntly.

Dallas shrugs. “I was thinking a public execution.”

Negan shoots him a sharp glare. “ _Fuck_ you.”

“Shut up!” Rosa snarls. “You don’t get a say in this.”

“Like fuck, I don’t.” Negan barks back. “These are _my_ people. They’re not just gonna let you trounce your fucking way in and play Executioner.”

“They will,” Dallas is still smiling, “once I tell them what you did to my daughter.”

“You’re a piece of dog shit.” Negan hisses. “Your daughter would be embarrassed to see you pulling some petty bumfuckery like this.”

“Shut your goddamn _mouth_.” In an instant, Dallas’ gun moves from Negan’s head and fires directly into Rick’s kneecap. Rick roars in sudden, searing pain. A harsh smack of a gun handle on the back of his head silences him.

“Stop screaming!” Rosa demands. “Cause a commotion and I’ll make it worse.”

“Can’t get much worse.” Rick grumbles bitterly.

“Shit, Rick…” Negan ignores the enemies in the room and focuses on Rick. “Fuck, are you okay?”

Rick nods. “…I’m fine. Burns like hell, but it isn’t the end of the world.”

“’Atta boy.” Dallas praises, and when Rick looks up to narrow his eyes at the man, he sees that the gun is now back in its former position, pointed at Negan. “Walk it off, because here pretty soon, you’re not going to be doing any walking.”

Rick can tell looking at Negan that he wants to say so much more. But with Dallas’ warning shot oozing crimson all over the knee of Rick’s pants, he seems to be swallowing all of it.

“What are you guys?” Dallas questions, as Rosa lowers her gun and gets to work strapping Rick into the chair he’s sitting on. “Business partners? Friends? Lovers? All of the above?” When neither man gives him more of an answer than a violent glare, he doesn’t seem offended. “Doesn’t matter. I just figured I’d be a nice guy for a second and let you two have your last words in privacy.”

“Last words.” Rick repeats, though he doesn’t dare add that he’s certain these aren’t going to be his last words. Neither he nor Negan need another injury.

“Last words.” Dallas agrees. By now, Rick is secured in the chair with his hands tied behind his back and his body strapped in. Rosa maneuvers over to Negan, following Dallas as he wrenches the man up to his feet and leads him to another chair. It’s so strange, watching the other man not bother fighting against the ties binding him, but Rick understands. This isn’t the end, anyway. “I know you didn’t kill my daughter out of malicious intent toward her or myself—that you really thought you were doing what needed to be done—and that’s why I’m going to go ahead and give you this chance to talk to one another. Even a blind man could see the way you two look at each other. If I didn’t loathe you for what you’ve done, I’d think it was heartwarming.”

And like that, he’s out the door. Just Rick and Negan remain, their bodies bound to their chairs, several yards apart from one another, both men undoubtedly wishing they could come together and embrace once more.

It’s especially difficult now, with the shock starting to set in on Rick. He’s losing blood quickly, and the pain from the gunshot wound to his kneecap is starting to affect him. He knows he’s growing pale, and not just because of blood loss.

“…Rick.” Negan sees it. Of course he does. Rick doesn’t have to look him in the eyes to know that much.

“I know.” Rick shakes his head. “I look like shit. I _feel_ like shit.”

“You’re bleeding.” Negan observes, as if it isn’t obvious. “A _lot_.”

“I’m fine, Negan.” Rick reassures. He knows this side of Negan. He knows the other man’s thinking the worst. And even if he isn’t, Rick knows it’s fully within the realm of possibility that the worst could happen. For all he and Negan know, Dallas and his people could be waiting until Rick’s on the brink of death so he’s too exhausted to pull anything before his execution. Or maybe they’re not. But they’re in the middle of a very dangerous situation, and Rick is absolutely in no way ignorant to it.

And if he’s being honest, he really doesn’t want to die. He’s very much looking forward to his future with Negan. From everything to picking out a decent place to go for their honeymoon to settling down and working the Sanctuary the way they should have from the start. He wants to wake up to Negan and lie down with him. He wants to wrap his arms around the other man, to feel him inside him. He wants to kiss that face and reassure Negan that everything’s going to be okay every single day. To grieve for the ones they’ve lost together, and to move on for those losses’ sakes.

He sure as shit doesn’t want to die at the hands of someone from Lewis’ old camp.

And he’s determined not to, but he also knows that determination isn’t going to be the only motivator here. He’s legitimately got to figure something out.

“We’re past the point of sugarcoating shit, Rick.” Negan deadpans. “We’ve got to come up with some way to get you the fuck out of this before you bleed to death.”

Rick’s sick to his stomach, and he can feel cold starting to surround him as the blood loss grows more severe. He knows Negan’s right.

“I know we do.” Rick sighs. “And that’s why you’ve got to forget about me and my knee for a minute.”

The room falls silent. Honestly, what choice do they have here? Rick’s got no clue just how much control Dallas and his people have right now. If they’re about to host a public execution of the Sanctuary’s two leaders, though, it’s got to be a lot.

Rick wonders how Simon’s doing. He and Dwight and Sherry are easily three of the most loyal Saviors Rick and Negan have. There’s no way they’d just cave in and do whatever these guys asked. Not without a situation like the one Rick and Negan are in right now.

In a way, that line of thinking is reassuring. Simon was able to pull Rick and Negan out of a shitty situation before, when Mark and Amber tried to revolt against them. He may just have a plan in mind. He and Dwight and Sherry, Arat, Laura…

Rick’s heart suddenly swells. He hadn’t thought about it in the past, because most of what occupies his mind is thinking about Negan and the larger man’s welfare, but now that Rick thinks about it in the absolute worst of situations…he’s got a family here. The Saviors are his new family. The Sanctuary is his home. He and Negan oversee the whole thing, but they’ve got family here. They’ve got friends in low situations, and they’re…honestly going to be alright.

Rick doesn’t say it out loud, but he and Negan exchange glances, and he knows the other man sees that sudden look of assuredness on his face. He hopes it conveys exactly what he’s feeling, and that the feeling carries over to Negan.

They’re going to be fine. Simon and the others aren’t just going to let this shit slide. What Rick and Negan have got to do is trust in what they’ve built here at the Sanctuary. They can do this.

**\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---**

_Negan gets worse over the next week. His skin grows shiny from sweat, and no amount of sponge baths or wiping the moisture away with a wash cloth seems to do away with it. Doctor Carson is warning Rick not to get his hopes up, and Rick can’t bring himself to let them fall. He’s afraid of what might happen if he loses faith._

_He tries to adhere to Simon’s suggestion. Sleep comes in small bursts of maybe ten minutes or so, before the blood pressure cuff starts to inflate or someone steps in to check on them. It’s fleeting, but it’s enough. It makes Rick’s limbs feel just light enough for him to get to his feet and check on Negan—to reposition him in his bed, or to wipe sweat away from his forehead. Sometimes, he sits closer and grips the man’s one remaining hand. He hates how shaky the clammy fingers are. How pallid Negan’s face is._

_He looks less and less like himself each day. He’s lost weight, and even though the angry redness on his shoulder is starting to go down, his body hasn’t recovered. He still looks like he could take his last breath any minute, which has Rick holding his own breath._

_Simon convinces Rick to take a shower a week in. He tells him that he will literally make a mad dash into the shower, unafraid of witnessing Rick’s naked body, and let him know if anything happens, and Rick obeys. He doesn’t take the time to shave, though. He doesn’t think about it. Hell, he doesn’t even bother looking in the mirror. It’s just a matter of getting cleaned up, getting dried off and dressed, and going to check on Negan again._

_He doesn’t sleep that night. Simon joins him in the room and attempts to cover for him so he can get some rest. And in Rick’s defense, he does try. It doesn’t work very well, but he can definitely say he’s been trying._

_A week and a half in, Rick’s back to his exhausted state all over again. Simon has long-since stopped helping him watch over Negan in favor of keeping the Sanctuary together. Rick trusts him to do so, more than he trusts himself right now. He feels sick with grief, and wonders if he’d even care enough to step out and keep running the show. It’s never going to be the same without Negan’s booming voice next to him._

_He feels pathetic and useless, and he knows that if Negan knew what he was thinking right now, he’d be royally disappointed. Rick would never hear the end of that one. But that doesn’t mean Rick can just do away with the wandering thoughts. His mind doesn’t just stop running like that. He’s thought about it enough to have his dependency a permanent fixture in his mind. Negan’s everything to him. Negan saved him, and Negan’s been there for him. This is a thought he revisits every single day._

_Even more so, now that Negan’s all but on his deathbed._

_Rick knows he’s sinking to new lows by not bothering with anything else but Negan, but if anyone had expected any different, then they haven’t been paying attention to the dynamic the two men share. Rick doesn’t know if Negan would fall apart like Rick has been during his coma, but he knows it would be damaging to him. They’ve both already admitted that they’re not sure what life without one another would be like._

_When Negan finally does wake up, Rick’s on the verge of falling asleep, but it doesn’t take him long to get to his feet and scream for the doctor. It’s all a noisy mess of Negan and his confusion and his pain and the excitement of him pulling through his infection and blood loss, but Rick’s heart is in his throat. He suddenly feels as if he’s just had a full night of sleep and a good meal. He’s awake and ready to talk to Negan and thank him for surviving and tell him just how incredibly strong he is._

_And then Negan glares at him and tells him how he needs a shower and some sleep._

**\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---**

Rick’s definitely feeling the blood loss, now. At this point, Dallas and his people have the apparent public execution all set up. They’ve got just about everyone gathered up in the same room Negan usually holds his meetings from, with Negan and Rick standing on the path at the front. Rick can barely walk, and it’s not just because his kneecap has been blown to shit. He feels sick to his stomach, as if he could vomit and pass out any minute. He feels weak and tired and just generally not alright. He’s not going to say it aloud, but he wouldn’t be surprised if after all this was said and done, he really did die.

He doesn’t dare look over to see how Negan’s taking the whole situation.

In his wavering vision, Rick can see that everyone’s in the crowd. He can make out the fuzzy images of Simon and Dwight, Sherry, Laura, and Arat, all smattered around in the group. None of them look happy with the situation. Even considering that it doesn’t look like they’re going to get out of said situation alright, Rick takes some sort of victory in the dismay on their faces.

It’s nice to know that this is unfortunate for more than just himself and Negan. And despite the looks of frustration on their faces, Rick still finds himself trusting that they’ll figure something out. At the very least, they’ve got to keep Negan alright. The Sanctuary needs him.

Next to Negan, Dallas is bellowing out a speech about everything that happened. He’s going into this story about his daughter—Janelle, apparently—and all the achievements she had in school before the world went to shit. How she was a loyal soldier at the camp and how incredibly smart she was. Rick doesn’t care. No offense to Janelle or anything, and it really does suck that he killed off someone like that, but it’s not important to him. He’s about to bleed out, here, and he really doesn’t care for this story to be the last thing he hears before he kicks the bucket.

He moves on into her death, and how Rick apparently has a penchant for accidentally killing people’s siblings. Paints this whole bad picture about how reckless and self-important Rick is. It gets to the point where, even in the haze of Rick’s blood loss, he can feel Negan’s rage. He finally forces himself to glance over at the other man, to give him the best look of warning he can manage, and hopefully convince him not to do anything.

And that’s when he sees it. Negan isn’t angry. He isn’t looking at Dallas at all. He’s got his gaze firmly fixed on Rick, and the look on his face could kill him faster than any bleeding gunshot wound.

He’s _scared._ He’s fully upright, his eyes wide and brows turned up in distress. His mouth hangs open, and he looks as if he might actually start to cry, right in front of all these people. Rick must look terrible. He sure _feels_ terrible.

And seeing Negan on the verge of losing it over him like this…it might as well be the end of him.

“I love you.” Negan all-but whimpers, and that’s when Rick gives in to the unconsciousness biting at his vision and collapses.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I've got a new updating process in mind, which I'll explain in the notes after the chapter. 
> 
> Hope you guys can still enjoy this work. <3

It feels like war has broken out in the Sanctuary.

Rick can’t focus, but he can hear gunshots, and when his body allows his eyes to flutter open for a few seconds, he sees flashes of white and red and black…smells the thick haze of smoke. Every now and then, Negan will flicker into his line of sight. Rick can’t make out his face—just the blurry outline of that black jacket and missing arm Rick knows so well now. There are screams, the faint rattling of an assault rifle firing off in the distance.

And then everything goes black.

Rick doesn’t feel himself disappear, though. If this is what dying feels like, it’s scary. Rick still somehow exists, but at the same time, he feels like he’s slipping away. The pain from the gunshot is gone, and his body tingles all over like he’s been given a heavy dose of morphine. He’s calm and afraid and worried all at the same time.

What’s going on out there? How’s Negan holding up? What about Simon, Dwight, Arat, Sherry, everyone else? Rick’s utterly useless, and that’s equally the scariest and most frustrating part about this whole situation.

But as even the blackness in his vision seems to ebb away, Rick knows there’s nothing he can do about it now. He tries to breathe, but it’s hard to tell if he even does that, and then he prays. In his head, he begs for whatever deity may or may not exist to spare the Sanctuary—to give Negan and everyone else a chance at survival. For Dallas and his little accomplices to give up and leave and never come back again.

_“He’s bleeding out!”_

The voice sounds like it’s several yards away, but Rick somehow knows by the warmth surrounding his tingling body that it’s right there. It’s fuzzy, but Rick is almost completely certain it’s Negan. He feels comforted by that voice, and relaxes further…slips further.

_“Get him somewhere! I don’t give a flying fuck where! Just—get him out of here and patch him up!”_

Rick feels pain again and turns his head. The ground is cold against his skull and back, and even though Rick knows for certain he’d fallen forward instead of backward when he’d collapsed, he’s also aware of the fact that he’s supine right now. He uses the feeble amount of strength he has left to turn onto his side, and his heavy eyelids come open with a considerable effort. He sees Negan propped over him, presumably shielding him from the onslaught of bullets overhead, and then he feels hands under his arms, scooting him backward, hefting him up. Negan fades from Rick’s vision, but Rick doesn’t want him to go.

Everything goes black again, and Rick succumbs this time.

\--- --- --- --- ---

_Rick doesn’t hate Negan. No amount of harsh words or bitter tone can ever make Rick hate him. And besides, he knows what the guy’s doing. All afraid because Rick was going on about putting his life on the line to save Negan, so Negan thinks the right thing to do is distance himself. As if pushing someone who is undoubtedly his other half away is going to do either of them any good._

_Rick’s angry. He can’t recall a time when he was ever this angry with Negan. He’d questioned the guy’s choices from time to time, but he’d never outright been angry. They’d always just gotten along so fluidly. Negan would take the lead, and then Rick would slip into a role alongside him, gun pointed, ready to slaughter anyone and anything that got into his way._

_And yeah, maybe that kind of relationship is pretty unhealthy. Killing for the sake of one man is reckless and dangerous and definitely not on the list of good things to do for someone you care about, but Rick can’t help himself. He loves Negan. Negan saved him, brought him back to his feet and reminded him that life was still worth living even when the world was giving up around him. It’s natural to want to protect that—to want to make sure nothing bad can ever happen to someone like that. Rick loves Negan—loves him so incredibly much that it aches._

_And that’s why he’s angry._

_He’s sitting in the room he calls his own, but it’s been so long since he last used it. The chair inside is uncomfortable and feels empty and lonely. Rick wishes Negan would come in, slip his arm around his shoulders, and tell him they should talk. He doesn’t even want an apology. He wants to tell Negan how ridiculous it is to think that they should stop now, after they’ve come so far. Rick’s not going to die unless he deems it absolutely necessary. At that house, in front of Lewis, he had indeed deemed it such, but if that’s what Negan’s afraid of, then Rick can work something out._

_There’s also the factor of the missing Lucille, though. During the scuffle, the baseball bat had gotten lost. Rick isn’t sure where she is, but she’s been gone, out of Negan’s reach for almost two months, now. There’s no telling if he’s ever going to get her back. Rick knows how important that bat is to Negan, so that probably doesn’t help the situation any._

_Hell, Negan probably feels utterly lost without her. Like a part of him is missing. He’s clearly depressed, and on top of having to accept that his right arm is history, of course he’s going to be miserable and angry and in pain._

_Rick stews on the issue the entire night. It isn’t until roughly three in the morning that he decides he’s got to fix things somehow. Negan deserves better than this. He just went through a traumatic injury, and he’s had Rick up his ass for over a month. Maybe Rick needs to get away for a while. Long enough to find Lucille and give her back to Negan, so they can bring their happy, albeit unhealthy, family back together._

_And that’s why he sets off without a word. No doubt Negan will lose his mind and try to stop Rick if he tells him before he goes, so he doesn’t. He just packs up enough things to last him a week or so, bolts out of his room, and heads out to get his hands on a vehicle._

\--- --- --- --- ---

When Rick comes to again, it’s to a dull gray atmosphere. Like a fog, it shrouds everything. He can’t even see the ground beneath him. What he does notice, however, is how he’s not in pain anymore. His strength is back, and opening his eyes and looking around takes no effort.

He uses that to his advantage and pushes himself up into a sitting position. It’s like he’s in some empty, smoky room. A glance down at his knee tells Rick that his injury either never happened or has miraculously healed in its entirety. He bites his lip knowingly.

“…Dad!”

Rick swears his heart jumps out of his throat upon hearing that voice, but before he can put a face to it, he’s met with arms thrown around his shoulders and the most joyous, youthful laugh he’s heard in a long time. Tears spring from his eyes as he curls his own arms around the person’s frame and holds them tight.

“Carl…oh my god…” Rick all-but sobs into his son’s shoulder, before he pulls away and shifts to his knees. He cups the boy’s face in his hands and starts crying all over again. “Son, I never thought I’d see you again…”

Despite the passage of time, Carl doesn’t look any older than he was the last time Rick saw him. All of seven years old, he’s still the bright-eyed boy Rick had known before the world had ended. He smiles at his father, wide eyes full of love and excitement, and despite how he doesn’t seem to bear that same bite on his neck or that rotted, undead look Rick last recalls seeing him sporting, he looks as if he hasn’t seen his father in just as long as Rick hasn’t seen him.

“I missed you,” Carl states. “Me and Mom both did.”

“Mom…” Rick repeats the word, and then finds himself glancing about frantically. Does that mean Lori’s somewhere? “Where _is_ your mom?”

“Right behind you.” Carl laughs, and before Rick can respond, a finger taps on his shoulder. Without thinking, Rick rights himself and pivots, throwing his arms around his wife. Lori hugs back with that same odd blend of earnestness and tenderness that he loves so very much about her.

“Hey there, baby,” Lori says, voice laced with reassurance.

“I missed you so much,” Rick chokes out, before he pulls away again. Lori is just as full of life as her son, looking completely and utterly unharmed, and the sight makes Rick want to start crying all over again.

He knows this probably isn’t real, but he’ll take what he can get. When the last image of your loved ones you’ve seen is their dead, rotted forms on the ground with bullet holes in their skulls, of course you’re going to take this version of them better.

The foggy grayness surrounding the three starts to grow thinner, but it’s still impossible to see where they are. Rick isn’t even sure what kind of surface he’s standing on right now.

“You said some pretty interesting things today.” Lori moves to stand next to Rick as she speaks to him in a calm voice. Rick somehow knows she’s referring to what he said at the makeshift graveyard back at the Sanctuary. “About moving on and learning to live your new life.” Rick casts a glance at her. There’s a placid smile on her face. Standing next to him like this, Lori looks like an angel. Her skin almost has a glow to it, and her eyes are bright and meaningful. “I think it’s a good thing. You weren’t ever meant to fall apart, Rick. You’re strong. Much stronger than most of us could ever hope to be.”

“I don’t like that guy, Dad.” Carl points out from not too far away. He jogs over to the other side of his father. “He says a lot of weird stuff.”

Rick laughs. Of course Carl would think that about Negan. “That’s okay, son. He’s an acquired taste.”

“That’s putting it lightly.” A voice Rick doesn’t recognize permeates the air behind them. Rick somehow knows exactly who it is, but he still pivots to look at the one speaking. It’s a woman, a little shorter than Lori, with fierce eyes and dark, wavy hair that extends well below her shoulder blades. She casts him a sardonic smirk.

“You’re Lucille.”

“That, I am.” The woman has a deep, soothing voice. Rick can hear the stopping power in it, and he knows without a doubt that when she and Negan were together, she did a lot of keeping him in line. No surprise, there.

Lucille turns her focus to Carl, her expression softening considerably. “Don’t let him fool you, kiddo. My Negan’s actually a big softie.” A knowing smile is offered to Rick after the words fall from the woman’s lips. They both know how tender Negan can be.

Rick feels an overwhelming sense of both catharsis and understanding. He moves forward without speaking and extends his arms to Lucille, who responds in kind. He feels like he’s known her for years. They hug like family.

It feels like several minutes pass after that, but Rick isn’t sure exactly what the passage of time is here. He doesn’t care, either. He gets to have some much-needed conversation with Lori and Carl, and even Lucille. The nothingness surrounding him is actually soothing, because he knows he doesn’t have to worry about being interrupted by walkers or other survivors. It’s just himself and these people, and some much-needed conversation.

At least, until Lucille stands up. As if cued by her movement, Carl and Lori follow suit. Rick feels compelled to do the same. He obeys without thinking.

“Welp,” Lucille clears her throat, “things are looking really shitty right now, so you’d better go back.”

Rick doesn’t bother masking the genuine shock on his face. “…I’m not dead?”

“Jesus Christ, Rick,” Lucille scoffs. Near her, Lori and Carl chuckle a little, too. “This isn’t some bullshit cliché out of a movie.” As she moves to stand behind him, Rick notices that Carl and Lori are waving to him, as if to say goodbye. “Now, go marry my husband.”

As Lucille plants a hand in between Rick’s shoulder blades and gives him a harsh push, he hears Carl and Lori both screaming that they love him.

\--- --- --- --- ---

Like he’s coming up from underwater, Rick resurfaces with a sharp gasp, and then a series of coughs.

“Holy _fuck…_!”

‘ _That’s Negan’s voice,_ ’ Rick mentally observes as he tries to look around. The inky blackness surrounding him makes that task next to impossible, though. At the very least, Rick knows he’s fully conscious this time, because he can feel the coldness of tile underneath him and he can hear people all around him. Hell, he can even hear his own breathing.

There’s the sound of flint being stricken, before the smallest of lights fills a portion of the room. Rick’s eyes immediately dart to the source—a zippo lighter, clasped by a man Rick eventually recognizes as Dwight. Next to him, Rick can pick up the outline of Simon, and then further in the distance, Doctor Carson.

Where’s Negan?

“Rick…” The voice is directly to Rick’s left, so he turns his head to regard the faint silhouette of his fiancée. The lighter is several feet away from Negan, so it’s difficult to see his expression, but Rick picks up the relief in his voice. “Goddamn, don’t scare me like that. Just about gave me a fucking heart attack.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Rick himself almost doesn’t recognize his voice. It’s raspy and every syllable makes his throat hurt. How long has he been out?

He moves to sit up, but a hand on his shoulder urges him back down onto his back.

“Stay right there,” Negan orders firmly. Rick smells blood.

“You lost a lot of blood,” Doctor Carson says. “We stopped the bleeding, but we can’t do anything for the shattered kneecap right now.”

 _Shattered_. Rick was already mentally prepared for his knee to be destroyed, but the word hits his stomach like he’d just swallowed a paperweight. Is he ever going to be able to walk again? Just how _bad_ are things that they can’t medically analyze what’s going on a little better? Why are they going by the dim zippo lighter to see instead of using the light switch?

What’s going on outside this room?

“What happened?” Rick asks. He can figure out what’s going on with his leg later. “After I blacked out. I remember a lot of noise and gunfire. Did Dallas have more people than we thought?”

Next to Rick, Negan sighs. “All hell broke loose. Simon here started the fight when he saw you go down.” He nods to his friend, who Rick can faintly see smiling in the darkness. “Saw that fuckface get distracted when you collapsed and opened fire. Dwight and Sherry and Arat joined in after that.”

“A _lot_ of people joined in,” Simon continues for Negan. “Turns out it’s more than just the Boss and us who wanted you to live.”

“They put their lives on the line for you,” Negan adds, his tone heavy with acknowledgement. “A lot of them died.”

“How many?” Rick dares to ask.

“We don’t know yet,” Negan answers honestly. “We had to get you the fuck out of Dodge before you bled out on us. They’re still out there fighting.”

As if on cue, Rick becomes aware of the fact that his leg actually hurts a _lot_. Out of pure nervous reaction, he brings a hand down to his knee to grasp at the achy spot. He disregards Negan’s suggestion and pushes himself upright. He’s definitely dizzy, but the pain outweighs the sensation. His fingers close over his knee, which is bandaged heavily.

“…Turn the light on,” Rick orders.

“That’s not a good idea,” Dwight tries, and in the dense blackness of the room, Rick points an icy glare his way.

“You can’t tell me you worked on my leg in this darkness.” Rick knows he looks like he means business. Even Negan, still poised next to him, seems frozen in obedience to his words.

“Of course we didn’t,” Carson answers honestly. “But we worked as quickly as possible so we could shut the lights off. You don’t understand, Rick—”

“No, I get it.” Rick hears the exhaustion in his own drawling voice. “You think havin’ a light off is gonna stop them from finding us. You’re _wrong._ Tell me, where are we right now?”

“In the back of the fucking building, Rick.” Negan sounds irritated, and Rick isn’t sure just who he’s upset with. Could be the whole situation has him in a knot, because Rick knows better than most just how well Negan copes when things aren’t going his way. Being at the mercy of Dallas, seeing Rick collapse, having to hide like cowards…none of it sounds like the kind of thing Negan handles well. Rick can picture the scowl on his face.

But Rick himself is used to this. Part of the teamwork he and Negan possess is Rick having the uncanny ability to talk Negan through just about anything. They’re both born leaders but with different strengths. Negan is a tactical genius with ruthless laws and a tendency to get bent out of shape if things don’t go the way he planned, and Rick is a disaster technician—having been constantly forced to operate under the worst case scenario ever since the world went to shit, he knows how to see his way through a bad situation. Together, he and Negan are unstoppable. And that’s why Rick knows they can do this.

_“Now, go marry my husband.”_

Lucille’s comforting words only help to solidify this mentality.

“We got as far away from them as we could,” Negan continues, effectively pulling Rick from his thoughts. “We needed to get somewhere where we could patch you up without those fuckers interrupting us. Ended up being the storage room in the hall where we keep the cells. They haven’t found us yet, but I made a big-ass racket trying to get people to help me with you, so I’m sure someone is onto us.”

“Then,” Rick steels himself, “we need to be ready to fight them.”

“Babe…” Negan’s voice sounds desperate. “I know you’ve got a bigger brain than that. Can’t you see how fucked this situation is?”

“What do we do if they find us anyway?” Rick hisses. His eyes have acclimated to the darkness, so when he turns his head to regard Negan and finds himself weak with dizziness, he actually sees the concern on the other man’s face as Negan curls an arm around his shoulders and steadies him. “They’ll have the advantage of us sittin’ in the darkness, just hopin’ we know what to do when the door opens. Do we even have any guns?”

“Yeah,” Simon joins in, “I’ve got a .22 with half a clip left, and Dwight’s got his arrows.”

“Bolts,” Dwight corrects.

“Who fucking cares?” Rick can hear Simon rolling his eyes.

“Then you two stand guard,” Rick says. “Crack the door, tell us if someone’s comin’, and let us get prepared. _Turn on the lights._ ”

“Rick—” Negan tries to protest again, but Rick plants a hand on his chest in an attempt to silence him.

“We have two weapons,” Rick interrupts, shaking his head. “We could be makin’ more right now. Shanks, slingshots—anything.”

There’s a long pause throughout the darkness of the room, followed by a shuffling sound and the flicking of the light switch. Dim light fills the room and spreads across dirty, cracked tile and rusty shelves lined with everything from canned food to empty carboard boxes. Everyone looks up to regard Simon, who now stands next to the door, in front of the light switch.

“He’s got a point,” Simon answers simply.

Rick can now see clearly. He and Negan are toward the back of the room, across from the door. Against the wall to their left rests Doctor Carson, and on the ground not far from Simon, Dwight sits. Rick notices now that they’re all covered in some amount of blood, and the strong, tangy smell of blood makes sense now.

As he gets to work crafting shanks out of the wood from a side table with a pocket knife offered to him by Simon, Negan explains the situation.

“Dallas must’ve been working his ass off getting people into the Sanctuary without us noticing,” He informs, watching helplessly as Rick uses both hands to sharpen the tip of a wooden table leg. Rick can tell he’s itching to do something more than sit here and talk. Negan’s irritation is growing more and more with every syllable of explanation he gives. “How I didn’t notice that he was managing to talk some of our fucking people into defecting, or how he managed to infiltrate in the first place, is goddamn beyond me. All I know is he’s got people—a fucking lot of them, too.”

Rick frowns and passes him a crudely sharpened spike, before picking another table leg off the floor.

“We’re gonna need guns,” Negan says. “We can’t go out like this is the Dark Ages with fucking pitchforks and torches and pointy things and expect to stand a nipple’s chance in a boob job factory against them and all their bullets.”

Rick shrugs and keeps sharpening. “We’ll get some.” By now, Simon and Dwight are standing guard at the door. Simon’s got it cracked, peering through the tiny hole he has to see with. Next to him, Dwight clears his throat.

“Once we’re finished here,” the blond offers, “we can search for stragglers and take their weapons.”

“That’s a good goddamn idea,” Negan agrees, his shitty mood lifting just slightly. But it disappears when he casts his attention back to Rick. “There’s one big problem, though. We can’t just leave Rick in here.”

“I don’t see what choice we have,” Dwight argues. “We need guns, and he can’t walk.”

“We aren’t just leaving here to fend for his fucking self.” Negan looks and sounds pissed. Of course, with the situation as shitty as it is right now, it probably doesn’t take much.

“I can walk just fine,” Rick cuts in, still focused on his task.

“Uh, Rick…Baby…” Negan nods down to Rick’s leg. “We haven’t even managed to clean that wound yet. You do too much damage to it and you’re fucked. How do you expect to walk on a shattered kneecap?”

“We’ll stabilize it,” Rick supplies. “Use the last two legs of this table and some tape, gauze, anything.”

“Rick, that’s stupid—” Simon attempts to argue, but Rick cuts him off.

“I’m _not_ gonna be your handicap,” Rick insists. “ _Help me stabilize my knee._ ”

Even Negan seems to want to protest, but Doctor Carson follows Rick’s orders, using a button-up Rick himself offered to tie around the two wooden legs. As Negan offers support for the pain in the form of a one-armed hug from behind, he continues to explain what happened.

“We all worked on you once we got you here. Put pressure to stop the bleeding, watched you turn white as a fucking sheet…thankfully, the good Doctor here had some gauze on him. Took the whole roll to wrap your knee up. Not gonna lie, baby, I was about to start CPR on your ass…”

“Do you even know CPR?” Rick laughs, before clenching his teeth and hissing in pain when Carson tightens the bindings. Negan’s grip grows stronger around him.

“I was a fucking coach before the world went to shit, Rick.” Negan sounds offended. “You know that. Can’t work with a bunch of preteens without knowing how to resuscitate them if shit goes sideways.”

Rick shrugs. “Ever have to use it?”

It feels good to see Negan smile. “…Not one fucking time.”

“Alright,” Doctor Carson sits back, looking reluctant, “try to stand.”

Rick waits for the doctor and Negan to both take a side of him, each hooking an arm under Rick’s armpits. There’s a quick three-count, before they heft him to his feet. At first, it’s not so bad. Rick thinks that dizziness is all he’s going to worry about. If he doesn’t put too much weight on his right leg, he should be good.

But then, the two men let go and Rick’s disorientation has him tilting sideways. Rick tries to catch himself, instinctively supporting his weight with his right leg, and curses loudly in pain. In an instant, both Carson and Negan are back at Rick’s sides, supporting him.

“Shit!” Negan exclaims, and when Rick glances up at him, he looks like he’s panicking. “Are you okay? Fuck, I knew this was a bad idea.”

“Stop,” Rick orders curtly. “I can do this.” He can tell by the sheer weight of the stares on him that those around him disagree. And in any other setting, he would probably be on their side. He knows for a fact that if the shoe had been on Negan’s foot right now, he’d be stubbornly demanding for the other man to find a place to hide until they took care of their invader issue.

But Rick doubts he can sit still through this, so it’s either fight through the pain or get his hands on a wheelchair, and the former is more feasible without a doubt. So he goes for that one. He grits his teeth and offers a nod toward Carson. “Gimme a glove.”

The doctor looks amused for a second, before he digs into his pocket and withdraws a brown leather glove. Rick was expecting latex or vinyl, but he’s definitely not going to complain about leather. It’s thicker. He can bite it harder.

“Thank you,” he says. “I just want—”

“Don’t want to scream,” Carson finishes with a tired smile. “I get it. I appreciate it. Much as I want to help you, I don’t want to die.”

Rick meets that smile with one of his own. “I don’t blame you. Thanks for your help so far.”

After that, he stuffs the glove into his mouth and then lets Negan and Carson coax him forward, working on taking a slow step ahead. It burns something fierce, and when the hot, searing pain devolves into unmanageable agony, Rick feels sweat beading at his forehead and nausea biting at the back of his throat. His vision starts to waver.

He stumbles sideways and Negan and his helper steady him. Negan sighs in exasperation.

“Rick, I’m honestly already real fucking close to pulling the plug on this whole ‘you walking’ operation. Clearly, it’s too goddamned hard on you.”

“I told you,” Rick snarls, though he doesn’t look all that convincing, “I’m _fine._ ”

“Bull-fucking-goddamn-shit.” Negan sounds irritated. “Rick…just how much fucking good do you think you’re actually going to be to any of us like this? Best case scenario, you shuffle along behind us like one of the deadies and get a cap popped into your skull by someone who mistakes you for one. Worst, you collapse and we have to save your fucking ass all over again, and we risk getting caught a second time.”

Rick concedes enough to let Negan help him back down onto the ground. Frustrated, he slumps up against his partner’s chest. With Negan propped up against the wall, he is able to curl his arm around his lover’s frame without worrying about them falling back onto the cold tile.

“I _can’t_ just sit here and do nothin’.” Rick sighs in defeat. “It’s not right.”

“you ever heard of an honorable fucking discharge?” Negan’s voice is low and deep, the sarcasm just barely nibbling at each word. “Because I’m perfectly willing and able to give you one of those, Rick.”

Rick scowls and pushes away, shifting so that he’s in a sort of half-upright position, his eyes narrowed at Negan.

“This isn’t the military,” Rick grumbles. “And we don’t have the numbers for that kind of thing.”

Negan raises both eyebrows. “You mean to tell me you’d make all our injured men out there keep fighting?”

“No, but—”

“Then why in the fuck do you think any of us would expect you to put your ass on the line right now?”

“It’s not about me—”

“ _Rick_.” Negan’s voice is harsh and startling, accompanied by a sharp glare. “Stop arguing and _look the fuck around you._ ”

The seriousness in Negan’s words compels Rick to obey, so he does. Propping himself up on the palm of his left hand, he shifts himself fully upright and glances about the room. All around him, people are staring. Carson, Dwight, and Simon…they all look concerned. None of them seem to think that Rick getting up and walking his way out into this fight to pick up where his lack of consciousness left off is a good idea. They all seem to bear expressions that make it clear that they wish Rick would come up with a better plan or just give up and wait it out.

But since when, in the past handful of years, has Rick ever just _waited it out_? The last time he’d done so was when he was very much in a position where he hadn’t physically been able to make any other decision. Lying on the grass off the side of that street, bleeding out…when he’d been sure he was just going to die right there. At that point, it had been Negan who had pulled him back to his feet. Negan had told him he didn’t have any other choice but to keep going. And from that point, it had always been Negan and Rick, never giving up, all the way to the end.

However…right now, Negan wants nothing more than for Rick to just sit back and let him handle it somehow. _Somehow_. As if that’s so easy. This situation is easily one of the worst Rick and Negan have ever been in. It would be different if so many lives weren’t at stake, and that logic is the reason Rick and Negan had stuck to themselves for so long before the Sanctuary. It would be easier if they could just hole up in this room and rely on one another—their dependency on each other the only thing that mattered. It had been all about Rick having Negan’s back and Negan having his, fighting back to back, firing and swinging and firing and swinging. Injuries didn’t matter until the very end because they had one another, and that was all they cared about. As long as they did it together, they could handle death.

For a second, Rick wishes it still would be that way. Yeah, he has grown to care deeply for the people here at the Sanctuary, but nothing will ever compare to his love and devotion to Negan—to how much he owes to him.

And then, Rick realizes that Negan doesn’t feel the same way. That Negan wants to protect everyone. That Negan feels personally responsible for these people and what he and Rick have created.

As if reading his mind, Negan speaks up.

“You’re used to doing things our way.” Negan is calm and so, so rational all of a sudden. He’s the one pulling Rick down from a reckless decision this time. He’s the voice of reason—something Rick realizes with crippling abruptness and feels compelled to listen to him for it as a result. “You think that you’d like to protect everyone, but that it’s just us in the end. Not gonna fucking lie, I love you more than I’ll ever love any of these guys…” He and Rick both look up to regard the other men in the room. Surprisingly, none of them seem offended. “But we took these people in. We may have been pulling the strings, but without them, there’d be no Sanctuary. Without _you_ , there’d be no Sanctuary.”

On a mixture of impulse and longing, Rick cranes his head back toward Negan and loses himself in a tender kiss to his fiancée’s lips. He sucks in a breath as their lips move together, and with it, drinks in all the unspoken affection Negan has for him. He breathes in the dedication he has to the people of the Sanctuary, and he realizes just how powerful of a community he and Negan have raised. These people are loyal to their leaders. They’re dedicated. They want nothing more than to protect Rick and Negan and their fellow Saviors.

“Do you think Dallas’ people are like this?” Rick wonders aloud as he pulls back. “Willing to risk life and limb for him and his grudge?”

Negan frowns, then shrugs out of his jacket and helps Rick slide it onto his bare shoulders. “Fucking doubt it. Think about how we started, Rick. Think about Mark and Amber and what we did to them. I imagine that for Dallas’ people, it’s a constant state of something like that.”

That had been so long ago. Rick hasn’t thought much on it, but he remembers it clearly. Lining people up, threatening them, but also reminding them that they have a place at the Sanctuary if they’ll help to keep it in order. They haven’t had to do something like that since. Rick thinks he didn’t like doing it, and when he looks up at Simon and Dwight and Carson, he thinks he doesn’t want to ever have to do it again.

Maybe these people…the ones working for Dallas…maybe they want a place like this. Maybe they want a decent home. Maybe Rick and Negan could give it to them after they kill Dallas and the girl working so closely to him. Maybe…

“I have an idea,” Rick says, steeling himself as he sits bolt upright. He reaches for his leg and starts to untie the bindings. “And I won’t have to fight if it all works out.”

\--- --- --- --- ---

_“You’re happy with him.” Lori’s words come out as a statement rather than a question, and her voice bears no ill will—a testament to the fact that she knows how far Rick has come. Chances are, she’s been watching him ever since she died. She’s probably seen everything, from Rick nearly winding up dead himself, to Negan saving him, to the unbreakable bond he and Negan had formed. She almost sounds serene. “I’m glad. In a world like this, you deserve some happiness.”_

_“I don’t know,” Rick responds, leaning back on the palms of his hands. He and Lori are sitting on a ground Rick for some reason can’t picture. It doesn’t quite feel like concrete, and it doesn’t even look like a surface, but he knows he’s sitting on it. Either way, while he converses with his wife, his son plays with Lucille. “Negan and I have joked about how this is probably the world’s way of punishin’ the human race for all the bullshit we’ve done to it.”_

_“That sounds like something you’d joke about.” Lori smiles at him, her knees folded up and her arms resting on them. She’s got her head cradled in her arms as she watches her husband with her lips curved upward in placid delight. “You never were a prayin’ man.”_

_“I tried to be,” Rick admits honestly. “Before the end of the world, I mean. But I still don’t think some guy’s sittin’ here, lettin’ us fight the dead and the living to stay alive ourselves. I really doubt he’d let them kill Carl, either.”_

_“Maybe,” Lori responds with a shrug. “I suppose you never know.”_

_“What’s this?” Rick motions to the area around himself. “Is this Heaven?”_

_Lori chuckles and shakes her head. “Rick…baby…you’ve watched too many movies. This is probably just somethin’ your mind has cooked up to help you cope. You’ve had to do a lot of that, in your defense.”_

_“Well, shit,” Rick laughs, “sounds like I’ve gone and lost my mind.”_

_“That’s okay,” Lori laughs right along with him. “You’ve earned it, baby. But it won’t always be that way.” Her expression grows serious, and she turns her focus straight ahead, into the dull grayness before her. “You’ve done a lot of growin’ over the course of the past few years. You’ve had to think realistically for so long, and I wouldn’t wish losing us on you in any given situation. You’ve got the right to get lost every now and then.”_

_“Negan helps keep me grounded,” Rick admits. “I think I do the same for him.”_

_“You do.” Lori nods affirmatively, almost sternly. “You two need each other. But you don’t have to be monsters to keep each other. Don’t forget that, okay?”_

_Rick doesn’t look away from his wife. “…Yeah, I know what we have isn’t healthy.”_

_“What we had wasn’t healthy, either,” Lori adds. “We lacked a lot of important things. But I still loved you all the same.”_

_Lori’s words hang onto Rick clear after they’ve finished talking and he’s moved to speak with Lucille, and clear into her sending him right back out of his own mind and into reality. He knows this is all going on in his head, but at the same time, can’t help but think about how Lori’s wisdom far exceeds her years._

\--- --- --- --- ---

Rick’s idea is dangerous, and it took a long time to convince Negan and the others to go with it. They’d spent a good half hour in that storeroom, Negan shooting Rick’s idea down left and right, and Rick insisting that it was the only way they could regain control. And even then, Negan didn’t seem convinced.

Hell, dragging Rick out to execute the plan, Negan still doesn’t look like he’s sold on the idea. He goes with it, though. Much to his chagrin and Rick’s relief, Negan follows through.

They’re outside, now, with Rick lying face-down on the ground and Negan next to him, perched protectively over him. Dwight, Simon, and Doctor Carson have been positioned elsewhere. Rick inhales slowly against the concrete of the ground, and then exhales a whispered, ‘ _now_ ’.

On cue, Negan lets out a surprisingly convincing wail of frustration. It’s loud and despairing and has Rick wondering just how long the man’s had it pent up. The sound reverberates along the outer walls of the Sanctuary and echoes into the air around them. The distant gunfire ceases entirely. People race toward the sound. Rick can’t look around to see, but he can tell there are a lot of them. He swears he hears Arat’s voice gasp out an “ _oh my god_ ”.

Just like they discussed, Negan seems to wait for the crowd to grow around them. Rick can feel the tension of the larger man over him, and he hopes Negan can keep his cool until the one they really want to see shows up.

But as the time passes, even Rick finds it difficult to wait. Anxiety swells around him when he realizes just how dependent on Dallas’ arrival this whole plan is, and that it won’t take much for them to get surrounded and for both of them to end up shot dead before Dallas even so much as knows they’re out here.

Thankfully, luck’s on their side this time. It comes in the form of Dallas’ familiar, nerve-grating voice.

“Cease fire!” The man orders. Rick hears the simultaneous clicking of guns all around being lowered. He wonders if some of them belong to his own people.

Silence falls over everyone and everything. Even the wind seems afraid to breathe. One, two, three…ten seconds pass before Negan speaks again.

“Happy now, asshole?” The amount of defeat and frustration in Negan’s voice actually pains Rick. This…what he’s asked the man to do…is a little much, isn’t it? Rick sure as hell wouldn’t have had a good time pretending Negan was dead. The mindset itself would kill him inside. And here he is, making Negan act like Dallas and his goons have actually managed to kill his fiancée off. No wonder Negan sounds like he’s about to lose it.

“Do you feel better, now?” Negan roars. “Now that you got your stupid fucking revenge?”

The tension jumps a few steps, and Rick resists the urge to swallow down a lump in his throat. Any small movement, and their operation is over.

It’s even more difficult to stay still when Dallas speaks up again.

“I dunno. You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

“You _shut your fucking mouth._ ” Negan’s spewing venom at this point. Rick wants to recoil. “You don’t know _shit_ about the way the world works anymore. Sometimes, people just die and there’s nothing you can do about it. Rick and I learned that the hard fucking way. He told me himself that he got his revenge on Lewis and Nathaniel, and it didn’t do _shit_ for him. Your daughter’s still gonna be dead no matter whose brains you blow out. At this point, you’re better off dead.” Rick feels Negan’s gaze shift to him, crumpled on the floor. “I know I am. What’s the point of staying alive for people if they keep winding up goddamn-fucking dead? I bet if you looked at Rick here and tried to picture your daughter on the ground right now, you’d feel less good about what you’ve done here.”

“I _already_ lost her.” Dallas’ voice is suddenly cold as ice. “I’ve already _had_ to grieve her death. Now, I suppose you get to do the same. Almost makes me want to let you live—”

The telltale sound of a crossbow bolt firing rips through the tension, and Dallas goes silent, his last noise being the reverberation of his body crumpling to the ground. Guns click and reload, and Rick takes that as his cue, planting both hands on the ground and pushing himself up. Simon and Doctor Carson sweep in and help him to his feet.

He accepts a handgun from Carson, and then raises it straight up and fires a single round into the air. With his right hand held up like this, he realizes that the right sleeve of Negan’s jacket is gone, and his arm feels oddly bare.

“I’m only gonna say this _once_.” Rick starts, loud and drawling and riddled with exhaustion. He looks around him, at all the people watching him. Some of them, he recognizes. Others, he assumes belong to the late Dallas. There’s that woman…Rosa…standing on the ground next to Dallas’ body, with Arat’s gun pointed at her forehead.  Everyone else has their weapons lowered, watching Rick with anticipation.

Negan moves to stand by his side, a gun in his own hand, silently daring anyone to try anything stupid.

“This place belongs to Negan and I. This is _our_ Sanctuary. Not yours. These people work hard every day to _live their lives_. What may or may not have happened with Negan and myself and your camp…that doesn’t concern them. Now, if you can accept that, we’ll let you go. You don’t have to fight anymore. You can go on home, focus on livin’ _your_ lives, and that’ll be the end of it.”

“Don’t think we won’t be watching your asses, though,” Negan joins in, voice low and booming and demanding. “It’s nothing fucking personal, but you guys just about took _everything_ from me…from us.” He casts a glance to Rick. “So we’ll be sending people to keep an eye on you. Prove to us that you’re done jumping our fucking bones, and we’ll let up. Easy as Mama’s peach cobbler.”

“But that’s not all,” Rick continues. “We spent a lot of time worryin’ about whether you people were gonna show up or not. We tightened our security, cut down on runs, and _you people_ showed up at some point and started eatin’ our food. We’re gonna need that paid back.”

Rick sees the way people start glancing back and forth among one another. During their discussion in the storeroom, he and Negan had deduced that some of these people had to have moved their way in over time—infiltrated the Sanctuary until it was time to strike. And with their already dwindling supplies, they really _do_ need to boost their inventories again.

“That means every time we pay your sorry asses a visit, we get half your shit!” Negan announces. “Half your shit, until we decide we’re paid what we’re owed.”

The guns click again, and Rick finds himself staring down the barrel of more than just a few weapons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so here's how things are going to go from now on...I'm going to focus on updating one story at a time, until I get it finished. This one is the first one I'm going to work on like that. I'm already cracking away at the next chapter to this, which I'll finish and post as soon as I'm done. This will go on until I finish this story, and after that, I'll move on to Building Vona, and then New World Order. Once all of these are finished, there will be a long break, wherein I will be pre-writing the next couple of stories. That way, I can ensure a regular update schedule for you guys. 
> 
> To those of you who have stuck with my stories throughout all the hiatuses and long pauses and all that, I really appreciate you guys. Your feedback and comments are what keeps me going. I'm in the middle of a serious rough patch right now, so I'll take all the support I can get. I love you guys so much. <3


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably an unnecessary warning, since this story in general can get pretty bloody, but there is a decently gory medical scene here. Read at your own risk!

Rick isn’t surprised to have guns pointed at him. Hell, if someone were demanding half his shit from him, he’d probably be pissed off too. Most likely, he’d tell them to their faces how he’s going to kill them. He honestly doesn’t blame them for having their guns raised to him.

But it doesn’t mean _shit_ , because he and Negan and their Sanctuary are gonna win. Of that much, Rick’s confident. His leg feels like it could sear clean off his body any second and he’s light-headed with blood loss, but Negan lost an entire fucking arm and he’s still standing next to him, trucking along like it’s nothing. They’ve been through far worse, so they can definitely handle a couple of anti-half-your-shit-assholes.

“You forget,” Rick starts, his voice loud and sure, determined to get the point across, “you people _took_ from us. My people are just tryin’ to survive. That food you ate? That belonged to _them._ ”

Rick can feel Negan’s eyes on his. He glances around, throughout the crowd. He can see the faces of the residents of the Sanctuary, those without guns focused on Rick and Negan, instead with said weapons up and pointing at the nearest person aiming at Rick or Negan. He can’t help but grin a little at the sight. At the very least, it’s obvious that this is his and Negan’s Sanctuary—that these people will always see it as such, and are willing enough to protect it to point a gun at someone.

“You don’t answer to Dallas, anymore,” Rick continues.

“You don’t get to decide that!” Rosa, distraught, screams. “You don’t know where our loyalties lie.”

“That’s true,” Rick answers. “You’re right—I don’t. But I do know that Dallas is dead. You all are gonna have to get past that, and decide for yourselves who you answer to. But for now, while you owe us the shit you took from us, you answer to _us_. You _owe_ it to us.”

“We’re good people,” Negan joins in next to Rick. “We’re offering you undeserving shitstains a second chance. It’s not that fucking hard to tell you’re being given the golden opportunity here. All you’ve gotta do is walk the fuck away from here and be ready to pay us what we’re owed. And maybe apologize to the people whose shit you took away from them in your dumbass little infiltration operation. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll line your petty asses up and get ready for the ‘good game’ hand claps.”

There’s a long pause. Rick finds himself scanning the crowd all over again. People are glancing back and forth between one another, Sanctuary residents and members of the late Dallas’ camp alike.

Do they want to fight? Of course not. Rick can’t tell just looking at the scattered people surrounding him, Negan, and Doctor Carson, if these people have the same grudge Rick had at one point had for Lewis, or the one Dallas had had toward them. They’re just…all locked up in their own thoughts, trying to put the pieces together for the next chapter of their lives. Which they clearly seem to realize they’re just about to encounter.

How long have they wanted to move on? How long have Rick and Negan and Dallas dragged these people along their own vengeful paths? How many Saviors have lost their lives today, all because of revenge? What good has this done for any of them?

The resounding noises of guns being lowered fills the air all over again, and Rick sees that Saviors and Dallas’ camp members alike are dropping their weapons. They’re done—spent. They just want this whole thing to be over, and frankly, so does Rick.

So it goes without saying how much of a relief it is to see people conceding. A woman drops to the ground and covers her eyes, breaking into sobs. Rick wonders who she’s lost. He doesn’t recognize her, so she must have been from Dallas’ camp. But the Sanctuary has honestly grown so much that there’s no telling. Mentally, Rick decides he’s going to try and get to know the people here a little better from here on out.

“What the fuck are you people _doing_!?” Rosa’s voice barks through the crowd once more. “These assholes are gonna _take_ from us! They’ve already killed our people! It’s obvious they could do it again! Do we really want them watching us for however long?”

“ _Arat,_ ” Negan orders, and Arat obediently takes another step forward, her gun still raised to Rosa’s temple.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Arat pleads to her.

“We don’t plan on killing any more of your fucking people,” Negan continues. “Now, if one of your people decide they want to come out here and pull some shit like Dallas here did, we’re gonna have to do something about that. But there’s a silver lining.” As Negan speaks, Rosa’s glaring straight through his skull. Rick winces a little under the pressure of it, even not being the one on the receiving end. “You prove you don’t have any ulterior motives, pay us back for what you took from us, and you guys are back to circle-jerking it around your campfires and having your own little kumba-fucking-yas in peace. No more bullshit, unless you want to start some. It’s that simple.”

“And it’s _final_ ,” Rick insists afterward. “You don’t have to trust us, and if you go home and decide you don’t like us and want to fight back, _fine._ But _don’t_ bring your whole group into this.” His shoulders slump, and his eyes pick out the scattered Saviors in the crowd. “I’m sorry we dragged you guys into all of this.”

And truly, he is. Every step he took toward vengeance for what Lewis did to Negan’s arm, all the way to making people work sleepless nights to keep security tight (all for naught, apparently), to having to fight this battle with Dallas and his people today…it could have led into an endless cycle. His conversation with Lori about the Universe punishing humans for all they’ve done comes to mind. He laughs bitterly to himself, before he steels his demeanor all over again and shoots Rosa a pointed glare.

“That’s all there is to it,” Rick states, directly to her. “You do what we say, and you’ll be off the hook before you know it. I don’t know about you and all your people, but I’m tired. I want to go get this looked at,” he glances down at his knee, which is burning so painfully that it’s making his forehead sweaty, “and then I want to go to sleep. And I want to wake up and pretend all this shit never happened.”

_And I want to start working on my new life._

_I want to move on._

_I’m so tired of being led by revenge and fear of what that revenge might have done to those I care about._

_I’m tired in general._

_I’m tired._

Negan’s booming voice breaks the silence that has followed Rick’s words. He looks up just in time to see the other man motion with the gun in his hand around the crowd. “This isn’t a fucking book club, so we’re done talking about it. I want you people out of the Sanctuary in half an hour. Simon, Arat, Dwight—group up with any of our people that want to help, and make sure these guys get on the road without pulling any more stupid shit. Collect our first payment _immediately_.”

Rick thinks that maybe Negan’s being a little harsh, but he also knows they need food, so he doesn’t fight it. Instead, he stands there, loyal as ever, and waits for people to follow orders. Surprisingly, they all obey. Even Rosa looks tired as she shuffles away with Arat’s gun at her back. The crowd surrounding them starts to thin.

And then Rick starts to feel ill. It all happens in a handful of minutes. One moment, he’s curling an arm around Negan and trying to support himself with the new grip, and the next, his fingers are in a fist around Negan’s dirty white T-shirt as his legs give out on him and he vomits onto the ground. His face feels cold, and his skin prickles like tiny needles are stabbing him all over.

“Shit—Rick!” Negan’s voice sounds far away, like Rick’s underwater and Negan’s screaming at him from above the surface.

Everything from there is a blur. Faintly, Rick hears Negan confirming with some of his men that they’ve got the escort process under control, before he and Doctor Carson decide together to get Rick somewhere safe.

This time, it’s without gunfire.

\--- --- --- --- ---

_“You ever feel like this is really it?”_

_Shane and Rick have made a habit out of drinking beers outside of Rick’s house on lazy Sundays. Rick’s life is everything the movies have depicted for a middle-aged white cop. White picket fence, big open yard that’s been tended to way more often than Rick cares to admit. The delightful sight of Carl and his neighbors running circles around the yard, playing catch with an old, ratty-looking football from Shane’s high school days. The only difference is that neither Rick nor Lori can cook. Shane has dropped by today for just that reason—to cook them one hell of a good casserole. It’s in the oven right now, while Shane and Rick shoot the breeze around a couple of Natty Lights and Lori sits at the foot of the stairs and cheers her son on._

_For some reason, Shane has decided to wax sentimental. Rick’s glancing sideways at him, intrigued by his question. Who in the hell asks if this kind of life is ‘it’?_

_“Not sure what you mean by that,” Rick observes, turning his attention to the beer bottle in his hand. He swirls it a couple of times, before he takes a long swig of it._

_Next to him, Shane shrugs. “This. This life. We’ve got everything, man. Nice house, you’re settlin’ down, I’m havin’ a good time where I am. We both got good jobs, workin’ together brother! Carl’s growin’ up strong and proud. Kinda feels like somethin’ is gonna give eventually, y’know?”_

_“Not really,” Rick laughs a little, though it isn’t meant mockingly. “I mean, things aren’t perfect—Lori and I have our moments—but if the biggest thing I’ve gotta worry about is an argument with my wife every now and then or Carl forgettin’ to put the seat down, I don’t really want to question it.”_

_There’s something in Shane’s eyes that Rick can’t really interpret. He doesn’t think too much about it, though. Shane’s always been a little bit volatile—he probably just doesn’t like that Rick didn’t agree with him about that._

_“Maybe,” Shane finally responds as he finishes his beer. “But I’ve just got this feelin’. Like it’s too good to be true. Life before all this seemed way too hard for it to be so easy, now.”_

_Rick leans over and bumps his shoulder against his friend’s. “I think it just means we earned it.”_

_The doubt doesn’t leave Shane’s face, but he curls an arm around Rick’s shoulders nonetheless. “Yeah…maybe so, brother.”_

\--- --- --- --- ---

_“Shit…he’s waking up.”_

That’s Negan’s voice…

_“Keep him calm, then.”_

Carson. Why’s the room smell so awful?

_“Are you fucking kidding me? Can’t we give him something to—”_

_“We don’t have anything left to put him under with. No local anesthetic, either.”_

Oh, God…

Rick’s groggy, but he can feel the pain in his knee returning. The searing and burning, combined with a scraping, piercing sensation. His head starts to spin, and he thinks he might pass out again. But the voices around him become clearer as the seconds go by, and he realizes in bearing witness to the conversation that he’s not about to be that lucky.

“Give him something to bite down on,” Carson, now clear as day to Rick’s ears, suggests. Rick opens his eyes just in time to see Negan glancing about the room frantically. A searing pain rips through somewhere on the right side of Rick’s knee and he arches his back and screams.

“Fuck!” Negan, bearing witness to the reaction, rushes to Rick’s side. “Rick…baby, I’m so fucking sorry. We should’ve done this sooner.”

Rick feels the sweat on his own face as it mingles with the hand Negan cups his cheek with. He feels like throwing up all over again.

Doctor Carson, down at knee-level with Rick, frowns apologetically at him. “Negan—you’re going to have to hold him down. _Please_ , find him something to bite down on.”

Rick panics when he realizes he’s lying atop an actual medical table, and the many items in the room are sterile surgical items. The last time he saw these things was when Negan’s shoulder had needed to be cauterized and cleaned. When he’d lost his arm.

“Shit…are you gonna have to…?” Rick feels his skin pale at the thought of losing his leg.

“No, I don’t think so,” Carson smiles weakly. “But we really did let this sit for too long. The cleaning process is going to suck.”

Rick nods slowly. “…Okay. Okay…I can handle this.”

In a few moments, Negan’s back at Rick’s side with a roll of gauze. He tries to make some innuendo about gagging Rick, but nobody laughs—not even Negan. Rick just clamps his teeth down around the material and takes Negan’s hand when it’s offered to him. Rick shivers when Negan’s warm lips press against his forehead, and then they both nod to Carson.

Rick screams. A lot. He bites down as hard as he can on the gauze, but it does little to distract him from the pain. By the end of the process, Negan has all-but wound up on top of Rick to keep his legs and arms from flailing. Somehow, it works, and the end result is a tired-looking Doctor Carson dressing Rick’s knee all over again. Rick feels consciousness ebbing away again. He doesn’t fight it, and as he slips away, he kind of wishes his body had thought to go to sleep half an hour ago.

\--- --- --- --- ---

When consciousness returns, Rick isn’t in a hospital bed. He already knows by the smell of the room and the softness of the sheets beneath him that he’s in Negan’s bed. He’s by himself in it, but he can hear Negan talking from not too far away.

Rick opens his eyes to see Negan and Sherry talking in the doorway to his room. Sherry’s got her arm wrapped up in some sort of cast, but other than that, she looks like she’s doing alright. She’s tired…probably just like everyone else is. But it’s good to see that she’s alive. Rick doesn’t recall having seen her once after he collapsed and everyone started opening fire.

“They won’t be gone long,” Negan says. “I sent ‘em out to make sure the Fuckface Patrol gets back to their camp and doesn’t pull anything shifty. If they’re stupid enough to make a move now of all times, they’ve got another fucking thing coming.”

“Yeah,” Sherry agrees, leaning against the doorway. Rick sees her eyes peer through the room and their gazes meet for a moment. Her lips curl into a smile. “Welp, that’s all I needed to know. Good hustle out there, boss. Your fiancée’s awake.”

Sherry’s smart. She knows that the instant Negan finds out Rick’s awake, he’s going to end their conversation and go straight to back to Rick. Who wouldn’t? Rick had done the same thing when Negan had come to after losing his arm. He exchanges knowing smiles with her, before she disappears out the door, closing it behind her.

Negan makes no hesitation in moving to sit next to the bed, where Rick rests. The first thing he does is steal a kiss. And Rick can’t help but let himself collapse right into it. He brings a heavy hand up to the side of his lover’s face and closes his eyes, relishing in the soft warmth of Negan’s lips on his own and the gentle brush of beard stubble on his cheek. When they pull away, Rick laughs.

“You are _not_ sittin’ at bedside like that. Get in here.”

Negan frowns. “Your leg looks like _hell,_ Rick. You don’t want me accidentally bumping that thing.”

“So don’t bump it,” Rick answers simply.

Negan still looks hesitant, but he eventually obeys. Rick imagines he’s wanted to from the beginning. With some effort, he scoots over so that Negan can crawl in and lie next to his good side and worry less about nudging his bad side. It hurts just to move, so Rick immediately understands why Negan was concerned.

But once they’re settled in, it’s not so bad. Rick’s afraid to lie any way other than on his back, so Negan cuddles up next to him and rests his arm around his waist. He kisses Rick’s shoulder, and then his neck, and then his jaw, before he nuzzles into his chest.

“You almost fucking _died_.”

The words are as sobering to Rick as he figures they are to Negan. Rick curls an arm around his partner’s back and rubs slow circles between his shoulder blades.

“I didn’t, though.”

“You don’t understand,” Negan retorts against Rick’s skin. He thinks he hears the larger man’s voice crack. “When we were trying to clean you up, Doctor Carson kept saying shit like ‘this could be extremely infected’ and ‘not sure how much more he can take’, and you have no goddamned clue how fucking scary that is.”

“Yes, I do,” Rick answers, more quickly than he means to. “You lost an arm on me, Negan. The infection almost killed you. I didn’t get to see your eyes for weeks.”

“Jesus fucking H. Christ,” Negan grumbles, face still buried in Rick’s chest. “We’re a goddamned mess.”

“We’re definitely somethin’,” Rick chuckles. “But we’re alive, Negan. We’re alive, and it’s startin’ to feel like we’re at a point where we can move on. Provided this thing with those guys leaving goes the way we want it to, we may just get that wedding sooner instead of later.”

Negan freezes, and then pushes himself up into a sitting position. “I don’t know…you’re gonna need a long-ass time to get better, babe.” He nods toward a spot next to his bed where a cane rests against the wall. It’s got a cherry-looking wood finish atop it—almost looks brand new. “Sherry found that for you. Carson says you might end up using it the rest of your life.”

Rick frowns, and regardless of Negan’s insistence for him to stay lying down, he pushes himself up. “…That bad, huh?”

“You were sitting with your knee bent at the right fucking angle when Whatsherface shot you, I guess.” Negan’s voice is weighted with something Rick thinks sounds a lot like guilt. And he knows why—Rick had gotten shot because Negan hadn’t kept his mouth shut during that whole altercation. “Completely destroyed your kneecap. The Good Fucking Doctor out there spent forever picking pieces of shattered bone and bullet shards and goddamn infection out of it. It was pretty bad.”

“Jesus…” Rick can tell the color’s draining from his features. And when Negan sees it, he looks away. Rick knows why. “Negan...look at me.”

Negan doesn’t obey right away, but after a few seconds, he turns his head to regard Rick once more. He looks like he might break down any minute.

“This isn’t your fault,” Rick tries. The narrowing in Negan’s eyes tells him it isn’t working.

“Bull-fucking-horseshit, it isn’t,” He sneers. “I know I talk too much. If I’d have known that psycho-bitch was going to shoot _you_ for _me_ talking, I’d have kept my shit to myself.”

“You couldn’t have predicted any of this,” Rick says amidst a quick, desperate sigh. “Negan—sometimes, things just happen. Life isn’t going to be perfect. And hey…maybe this is a sign.”

“…A sign,” Negan deadpans.

“Yeah,” Rick chuckles, before he reaches out and cups his lover’s face in his hands. “Maybe this means it’s time for us to focus on the Sanctuary… _at_ the Sanctuary. We have plenty of people willing to go out on runs. We’ll send them instead. I think their one-armed, bum-kneed leaders have set a good enough example for them. We’ll be settin’ a better one stayin’ here, because who would be stupid enough to go out like this?”

Negan doesn’t look sold on the idea. “Making it sound an awful goddamn lot like we’re a couple decrepit old fuckers who can’t fend for ourselves, Rick…”

“Well, we kind of are,” Rick answers, still laughing. “We can do plenty of good right where we are. So long as we’re keepin’ things organized here, it’s gonna be fine. And if you _really_ start gettin’ cabin fever, we’ll go out on a run _every now and then._ I want _us_ to make it, Negan. Not just me or you. No more chances. We’ve done enough.”

He doesn’t fight it when Negan straddles him and buries his face in the crook of his neck.

“Goddamn, I love you,” Negan says, before he and Rick devolve into a series of heated kisses and a probably-not-recommended dry-humping session, bodies rutting shamelessly against one another. Negan is surprisingly mindful of Rick’s injury throughout the whole process.

\--- --- --- --- ---

Recovery from Dallas’ assault is time-consuming. Even with the amount of people the Sanctuary houses, the process goes slowly. First, the bodies of everyone killed in the encounter are buried at the cemetery Negan helped create. In the process, Negan and Rick bury Lucille. Negan cries openly in front of the people of his Sanctuary, but he doesn’t care. Rick comforts him the best he can from his wheelchair.

Rick has to do a lot of leading from his wheelchair. He’s been active in physical therapy, but with how much else needs to be done around the Sanctuary, he understands that they can’t focus on it all the time.

The damage from the actual gunfire mostly rests on windows and wooden beams. Thankfully, the Sanctuary is mostly concrete and metal, so the work they have to do is centered on sealing windows back up and making sure that none of the damage to the concrete is too substantial. Rick joins up with Simon and Dwight and they spend weeks discussing a way to strengthen security without putting men to too much work. They find spots that could have been paths for Dallas’ men to infiltrate through, and they put guards at those spots, rather than in other, more obvious areas. Men are assigned rounds, and shifts are timed more humanely.

While Rick works on that, Negan focuses on supplies. He sends two groups out to check on the late Dallas’ camp and to collect, and he sends two out on a standard run. They need supplies as quickly as they can get them, after all, and Rick has voiced to him that he’s determined to make sure their collections stop as soon as possible. They can’t turn this into a habit—unless Dallas’ camp pulls something stupid and they decide it needs to become one.

Rosa has taken over as leader, according to Arat. She’s actually not bad at it, and even though she regards most the Saviors with a sour expression and curt responses, she does exactly what she’s told. The camp seems to be operating relatively normally, and even though Arat can never give her an exact answer as to when collections will stop, Rosa doesn’t fight it. She just grits her teeth and bids the Saviors goodbye.

Whether or not she’s got something up her sleeve is beyond any of the Saviors at this point, but things seem peaceful enough for now. There will always be that air of fear and curiosity as to what might happen next, but for the most part, things are starting to settle down around the Sanctuary. Supplies are no longer dwindling. They’re at a standstill, but they’re working toward a surplus again.

Progress.

A month in and Rick’s physical therapy starts to show improvement. Rick can now walk to and from meetings, and even though it wears him out, he does it diligently, his cane at one side and Negan at the other. He’s determined to get stronger. Negan did it, after all. So can Rick.

At the two-month mark, Rick can manage short distances without the cane. He hobbles awkwardly, so he knows he’s probably going to be relying on the cane forever when it comes to lengthy strolls, but he’s starting to get used to the way it feels. When he’s not just walking around the room he and Negan now share, he carries the cane like a trophy at his side. It’s a sign that he made it—that he and Negan really did pull through all of this mess.

Three months in, they decide to make their wedding official. They’re planning a quick ceremony in the main hall, followed by a honeymoon out to a cabin they’d visited so long ago. The memory of that cabin is fond, even if after it had followed a dangerous encounter with a herd, and Rick longs to go back to it. This time, it’ll be with Simon and Arat guarding them outside in an RV, and more alcohol than the four of them should be able to stomach.

The night before their wedding, Rick and Negan pull apart from a heated embrace, their bodies sweaty and their stomachs and chests covered in Rick’s release. They decide on a bath together. As the water fills up around them, Rick slides into the water in front of Negan, leaning back against his chest. Negan’s arm rests around his waist like it belongs there. It does.

Rick allows himself to become lost in thought. Amidst the warmth of the water and the soothing body pressed against his own, it’s easy enough to do so. Negan is peppering kisses along his shoulder and neck that ease the process along. He thinks about Carl, and Lori, and Shane. About Lucille, and about Lewis and Nathaniel. He thinks about that day, sitting on the couch in that house, eating beans, when his and Negan’s worlds turned upside-down. About watching Negan’s arm being severed, about watching him recover. He thinks about the important ground they reached in the process—about Negan proposing to him. About being dragged out of that grass back in King County by Negan. About their talk in the showers. About everything. Rick just thinks about everything.

“ _Now, go marry my husband.”_

That phrase is like a mantra. Lucille’s words, real or fake, imagined or not, will always echo in the back of Rick’s mind. He allows himself to feel some level of closure from them. And now that Negan’s kisses have stopped and devolved into gentle nuzzles on the nape of his neck, Rick figures it’s time to open up about it.

“After I passed out in front of Dallas,” Rick starts, “I had this dream.” He feels Negan stop and pull his head back, probably to look at Rick. “I don’t know if it was just a hallucination or if it was somethin’ real, but…I saw Lori and Carl…and Lucille.”

“Rick.” Negan’s tone is serious.

“I know it sounds crazy,” Rick replies quickly. “But it felt real. I thought I was dead, maybe. Lori and Carl were givin’ me their best wishes, and Lucille talked to me about bein’ married to you. Talked about you cheating on her, and about how you stopped when you found out she was sick. How maybe her illness was some sort of sobering factor—somethin’ you needed in order to see why you hold onto the things you love.”

“Jesus on a fucking triscuit, Rick…” Negan all-but groans behind him. He presses a kiss to his shoulder.

Rick just shrugs. “She loved you, Negan. And she hated you for sleepin’ around on her, but she respected you for stayin’ by her side after she got sick.”

“I loved her so much.” Negan sounds desperate, and Rick thinks he might cut their conversation off there, but Negan continues. “Look, I don’t know if this thing…this dream you had or what-the-fuck ever…I don’t know if it was real, but you’ve got to know, Rick. I’m not gonna do that to you. I learned my lesson with Lucille, and it was a shit-fucking way to learn a lesson. Maybe if I’d have paid her better attention, we could have caught the cancer sooner.”

“ _Negan._ ” Rick shifts until he’s facing the other man, and moves to straddle his lap. He cups both sides of Negan’s face in wet, soapy hands, and leans in to kiss him. “Shut up. It’s time for you to move on. _She_ wants you to move on. You want to know what else she said to me?”

And when Rick tells him, ‘ _Go marry my husband_ ’, he feels like it’s being spoken straight from Lucille’s lips. And Negan must feel it too, because the way he kisses Rick afterward is with so much affection that Rick finds it hard to believe it can be reserved for just one person. Either way, he drinks it up, and kisses lips and cheeks stained with tears and snot, whispers ‘ _I love you_ ’ over and over, until he and Negan have both gone silent against one another in the tub. The water has gone from hot to lukewarm, and even though they know it’s time to get out, neither of them seem to have the energy for it.

It isn’t until Negan makes a joke about his dick starting to get pruny that Rick decides they need to dry off. He doesn’t even want to know what that looks like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooly cow, so I'm finally almost done with this thing! Honestly, the next chapter is going to be pure smut and sappiness, so you can probably consider it over at this point. xD In any case, I really appreciate those of you who have stuck around as long as you have. I hope I can continue to produce content that you all enjoy. <3 Love you guys! Your feedback and support means the world to me!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this is it folks. The sappy final chapter to this monster. I feel like I've been working on it for years. As choppy and fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants as this work was, I'm honestly going to miss it. I don't want to let it go.
> 
> But I sincerely hope you guys enjoy this last chapter, and that you've enjoyed every chapter before it. I couldn't do this without y'all, after all. <3 
> 
> Thank you so much for bearing with me during the MANY hiatuses this thing endured. I love you guys!

The wedding was so simple that it was almost funny. Rick and Negan could hardly keep from laughing during most of the procession. They didn’t want anything too gaudy, so they stuck to just lining up at the main hall and making their vows while a good portion of the Sanctuary watched on from below. What started as two men chuckling it up in front of a waiting crowd, however, soon devolved into an emotional moment, where Negan didn’t hesitate to bare his soul right in front of Rick, and Rick followed up by doing the same. Where Rick hobbled forward as he held out his left hand, and Negan slid a wedding band onto his finger, and then he returned the favor.

Where eyes met and smiles formed and sealed in a kiss, fiancées became husbands. And it was shameless. Even in the zombie apocalypse, it was shameless. Rick throwing his arms around Negan’s shoulders, and Negan curling his hand around Rick’s waist as he dipped him down and smirked against his lips.

It wasn’t the type of wedding where you’d slap “just married” signs on everything, but the procession leading out to the vehicle that would begin their honeymoon was nothing if not loud and excited. People cheered and raced behind their leaders, closely followed by Simon and Arat. They whooped and hollered as if walkers wouldn’t soon start swarming in on them. And it was okay, because Rick and Negan both knew they could count on their Saviors to keep the undead out. As they clambered joyously into the RV and plopped down on its couch, Simon and Arat filing into the front seat, they didn’t let fear get in the way of their moment.

Even now, miles down the road, they’re having a good time. The Sanctuary has long-since drifted out of the line of sight, and worrying is the last thing either of them are doing. They’re going to take a couple of days out in this cabin, relish in one another, and come back and focus on being the leaders the Sanctuary needs.

Right now, however, Simon and Arat are going to have to babysit them a little. They’re currently wrapped up in one another on the mattress in the back of the RV, a few wandering fingers away from putting hands in pants, when Simon swerves the vehicle abruptly. Arat bursts into laughter when Rick and Negan both go flying off to the side and land unceremoniously on the tiny amount of carpet in the back of the RV.

Negan comes up cursing, but Simon just laughs.

“Surely you lovebirds can keep it in your pants until after we get where we’re goin’, right?” He puffs on a cigarette as he speaks, passing a new one to Arat afterward.

“What?” Negan scoffs next to Rick, sliding his arm around his lover’s waist as he does so. He sucks hard on the crook of his new husband’s neck, a spot he and Rick have both learned make the smaller man utterly weak in the knees. “Don’t like a little hot ass smell with your cigarette smoke?”

“Not particularly, no,” Simon replies instantly. “Ass doesn’t smell as good if you’re not getting any.”

“Do I detect a hint of fuckin’ green-ass jealousy, Simon?” Negan teases. Rick has since pried his lover’s hand off of him and scooted away, trying to regain his bearings. He’s kind of thirsty, so he seeks out some of the booze they’ve brought along. He watches with amusement as Negan continues to heckle his friend from the back of the RV. “Tell me—when’s the last time you went and got yourself laid?”

“I’ve got my sources,” Simon practically hums, before taking a long drag on his cigarette. “None of which you need to know.”

“Oh, no, no, fuck no, you’re telling me.” Negan rights himself, balancing awkwardly, and shuffles his way to the front of the RV, standing directly behind Simon. “If you’ve got a little black book, I demand to know what’s in it.”

“It’s not like that.” Simon’s laughing. “It’s not like I’m starting up some sort of Bang Bang diary a la Cruel Intentions, so don’t get your dick all hard over it. I’m just saying, you’re not the only one getting some action, Boss.”

Negan scoffs. “I just want to know who it is. Are you going steady with someone? Who’s the lucky gal…?” Rick watches him glance about the RV until his eyes land on Arat. He gasps. “You two _do_ spend a lot of time together!”

Arat blows cigarette smoke in Negan’s face. “Fuck you. I don’t swing that way.”

“Besides,” Simon adds, “She’s been taken a lot longer than you apparently realized.”

“By who?” Rick asks, shuffling up to the front of the RV to join them. He doesn’t fight it when Negan snags the tequila bottle from him.

Arat cocks an eyebrow. “You guys really don’t pay much attention outside of your dicks-and-balls-bubble, do you? Ever wonder why Simon hasn’t tried to screw Laura?”

“Holy shit,” Negan spits out a bit of tequila, just barely missing Simon’s head. “Never realized how…not straight so many of my people were. That said, Simon—”

“—Straight as an Iowa highway, Boss.”

Rick watches Negan scoff and push away from the seat.

\--- --- --- --- ---

For just four people out in the throes of the end of the world, Simon, Arat, Negan, and Rick sure treat it like that isn’t the case. They’re all determined to live as normal a life as they can before they have to go back to guarding the Sanctuary against walkers and putting their home back together in full. The past handful of months have been pure hell, and not just on Rick and Negan. Simon and Arat are clearly seeking a break, too.

So, rather than parking at the cabin and going their separate ways, the four start up a fire pit. Rick and Negan find a couple of lawn chairs in the cabin, and Simon and Arat have a couple boxes they use to sit on. They roast an assortment of canned foods over the heat of the fire, and eat and drink and have a good time. It’s just a night out with friends, complete with goofing off well into the evening hours.

Arat eventually drifts out into the night to set up trip wires just in case walkers stray into their paths. She’s got a rig of different noisemakers surrounding the entirety of the camp eventually, and by the time she returns, Simon and Negan are both three sheets to the wind, having been passing a now-nearly-empty tequila bottle back and forth.

Rick offers her a slightly-inebriated smile as she returns. He hasn’t had nearly as much to drink as the other two men, but he’s still feeling a nice buzz. Just enough to be aware of the surroundings and provide Arat with a little more than a drunken wave as greeting. Even the stony-faced Arat throws a grin his way.

“How’s babysitting going?” She scoots her box over to sit next to Rick, who offers her another bottle of alcohol he’s been slowly drinking on. She accepts it, taking a surprisingly large shot, before she passes it back.

“It’s not really babysitting…” Rick answers thoughtfully, before he takes a drink himself. “More like watching a sitcom. See, Simon’s tryin’ to get Negan to get so drunk that I have to drag him to bed tonight.”

“Looks like it’s working,” Arat observes with a harsh chuckle.

As if by her cue, Negan chooses then to speak up, barking out a response to something Simon’s just asked him.

“Like fucking hell am I playing ‘Never Have I Ever’ with you!” Negan mocks offense. “Your ass wouldn’t even tell me about your little black book earlier. No tellin’ what else you’d fuckin’ lie to me about.”

“I don’t have a little black book!” Simon’s practically doubled over laughing. “C’mon, don’t be a spoilsport.”

“I’m in,” Arat raises a hand, to which Rick cocks an eyebrow. She sees this and nods toward Simon and Negan. “C’mon, he can’t say ‘no’ if we’re all doing it.”

Not like Rick has a whole lot of crazy shit to talk about during a drinking game, after all. That said, he raises his bottle and nods toward the rest of the group. “Alright. Count me in, too.”

Turns out ‘Never Have I Ever’ gets more interesting when you’ve had a history in the zombie apocalypse. The good news is that none of them have ever done anything unsavory with a walker’s corpse, at least. Unless you count adding a points system to killing them—which Simon and Arat have done many times. Most of the questions, however, center on things before the world ended.

“Never Have I Ever,” Simon says at one point, “been intimate with two members of the opposite sex at the same time.” To which both Negan and Arat take a drink, and Negan proceeds to spew his drink across the fire at Arat in shock.

“I thought you swung strictly for team ‘Flick the Bean’, though…” He chokes, and Rick can’t help but laugh.

“How in the hell do you think I figured out how _not_ into guys I was?” Arat doesn’t even look remotely bothered. “Not that I needed to sleep with a guy to get the picture, but still. Experimentation.”

And that’s how their night goes. There’s a brief part during Rick’s more sober hours where he thinks about how he can’t remember a time ever since the world ended where he could relax like this, and how out of place the moment feels, but he figures that’s why this is a honeymoon and not just a typical night at the Sanctuary. This is something he and Negan have earned. And frankly, Simon and Arat deserve it too. Everyone living at the Sanctuary does.

Their game plays well into the night, until all four of them are too wasted to be much good at anything. Rick’s likely the most sober among them all, so he supervises to make sure Simon and Arat make it safely up into the RV, and then he and Negan amble into the cabin.

Not surprisingly, Negan has Rick up against the closed door of the cabin the instant they’re inside and it’s just the two of them. Even with just one hand, Negan’s got the uncanny ability to cover an insane amount of ground with his fingers. All with his mouth open against Rick’s, the larger man’s already got his new husband’s button-up pulled up high enough to tug it over his head. Rick shrugs out of it without protest, though he leaves the undershirt on because he doesn’t anticipate they’re going to get too far with their current inebriated states.

Negan proves this mental point in a matter of seconds. He just manages to let out a husky, “Love you so fuckin’ much” before he tries to guide Rick away from the door and ends up tripping over himself, taking his spouse down with him. Rick’s got a likely-permanent limp from his knee injury, so he knows he’s not going to be able to drag Negan to bed with much ease, let alone proceed to do what everything in Negan’s body language tells Rick he wants.

“Love you too, Negan,” Rick chuckles from atop his partner’s body. He lets himself get wrapped up in a series of languid kisses that make him even more dizzy than he already is and light up the pit of his stomach. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Now, you’re singin’ my tune, baby…” Negan drawls against Rick’s mouth. Rick can’t help but notice that a tiny hint of an accent peeks out through the alcohol in Negan’s system. Now that he thinks about it, Negan had said he was a native of Virginia, huh? Either way, the sound is music to Rick’s ears, and if he knew he wouldn’t pass out in the middle of it, he’d give Negan exactly what he wants. “Bet you’d look so good all spread out for me on that fuckin’ mattress.”

Rick chuckles and pulls away. With some effort, he gets to his feet and then sets himself to work pulling Negan up as well. It’s in this attempt that Rick realizes just how much bigger Negan is than him. It doesn’t show in most settings, but Negan’s got bigger arms. He’s longer and taller and kind of awkward to help bear the weight of.

“You can’t even stand, Negan,” Rick informs him. “Much as I’d love you to have me tonight, it’s not gonna happen.”

“Not even a little?” Negan teases, breath hot and admittedly more than a little arousing on the side of Rick’s neck. “We can’t have gotten married to go off and not consummate our wedding on our honeymoon…” He just about sounds like he’s whining, and Rick’s thankful they’ve reached the small cabin’s bedroom, so he can shove his new husband down onto the mattress.

Which, mind you, is surprisingly clean. With thick, plush sheets. They were a little dusty earlier, but Rick and Arat made sure to do a little sprucing before they got too crazy with the festivities.

Either way, he makes some work of pulling down the sheets, and then urges Negan down onto the mattress. When he pushes his husband’s jacket off his shoulders, he’s rewarded with a deep, husky chuckle.

“See?” Negan teases drunkenly. “I knew you’d have a change of heart. Now get down here, baby, I’m gonna—”

Rick kisses him. He can’t help himself. It’s part the drunken haze washing over him and part the fact that he wants Negan to shut up. He doesn’t want to lead the other man along, though, so after he’s got Negan out of his jacket, when he sits up to fumble with the man’s pants, he smiles through the flush of alcohol on his face.

“Shut up, Negan. We’ll consummate or whatever when we can both see to.”

“You say that while you take my pants off,” Negan huffs around a pout. “You’re giving off mixed fucking signals, Rick…”

“I’m gettin’ you comfortable.” Rick rolls his eyes. With some effort, he strips down himself, before he slides down into the bed next to Negan and makes himself comfortable on the other man’s chest. It’s a little different snuggling up against a white shirt rather than a bare chest, but Rick can live with it for the night. He’s so heavy with the haze of tequila in his system anyway that he doesn’t feel any desire to keep moving and take it off.

Negan doesn’t seem to protest, even after his little display of frustration toward their not-consummation of their wedding. In fact, he almost sounds like he’s falling asleep faster than Rick is, judging by how deep his breathing has gotten.

“Mmm…you’re difficult, but I love you,” Negan sighs against the top of Rick’s head.

Rick just shrugs against his chest. “Love you too.”

\--- --- --- --- ---

The morning is strange when it comes. Rick finds that there are no more flashbacks. The memories are there, but they don’t play out in the foreground of his mind anymore. Instead, what he opens his eyes to is sunlight. Sunlight and warm sheets and Negan nestled up against him.

At some point, they have shifted their positions so that they’re facing one another and Negan has his arm curled around his lover’s waist. Rick’s head is tucked under the man’s chin. He smiles contentedly and presses a kiss to the throat he can see up close.

Rick had a lot to drink last night, but he’s surprisingly not hungover. He feels good…comfortable. Doesn’t really feel like getting up for the day. He knows he has all the time in the world right now to do so, too.

Negan’s breathing isn’t the slow, long inhales and exhales that come with sleep, so Rick knows he’s awake, too. He pulls away just enough that he can look at the other man’s face.

Negan is staring out the window. There isn’t much visibility with the dark curtains obscuring most of the view, but Rick can tell by his expression that he isn’t trying to get a look at the world outside. It’s quiet, and even the sounds of the walkers are muted as if they know this is an important day to Rick and Negan.

Negan looks distant…thoughtful. He may be conscious, but his mind is completely elsewhere. Rick wonders what he’s thinking, but he doesn’t have the heart to tear his husband away from whatever is on his mind. Coupled with his desire to avoid leaving the bed for now, Rick just settles himself back up against Negan’s chest and closes his eyes.

He feels Negan’s grip around his frame tighten just slightly. Blinks in surprise, eyelashes dancing across Negan’s skin in the process.

“When you told me I’d have to pretend you were dead, I just about punched you in your stupid face.”

Rick pulls back again, eyeing Negan curiously. The other man is still staring out the window. The harshness of his words is lost on his face, which looks as soft and contemplative as it had moments ago.

Rick waits for him to continue. He feels Negan’s fingers tracing slow circles on his shoulder.

“All I could think about was how real it had the chance of becoming,” Negan says. “You had lost so much blood, and you had passed out just a fucking hour or so ago. You were a mess, and for some goddamn stupid fucking reason, you’d thought you were ten feet tall or some shit. Like you could take on the world. I used to think Lucille could do that. And then she got cancer.”

Rick winces. Yeah, he could definitely see how hard that would have been on Negan. He tries an apology in the form of a kiss to the collarbone, still waiting patiently for the words he knows his husband needs to say.

“You’ve always been like that, from the very fucking beginning,” Negan muses with a smile. “Yeah, I probably encouraged that shit a little more than I should have. Told you how hard my dick was for your badass side and how much I loved watching you show off for me. You were always right there. With your gun and your hatchet and your fucking _life_.”

Rick frowns and curls into Negan’s frame a little more. Surely, Negan doesn’t expect him to regret all of that. Hell, even if the man requested for Rick to, he wouldn’t be able. Love does strange things to people.

Still, Negan keeps speaking. “Had I known it would have led to you trying to put your ass on the line for me the night Lewis and his Dickhead Posse found us, I’d have put a stop to it a long fucking time ago.”

Okay, so maybe Rick does have _one_ regret. He’d never meant for his past to cost Negan an arm.

“I’m sorry,” Rick finally says, and unlike Negan, he can hear the sadness in his own voice. “Because of all that, you lost an arm.”

“I’d much rather it be mine,” Negan answers quickly. “The whole time you were screaming like that, I’d been losing my fucking mind thinking they were gonna put a damn bullet in your brain to shut you up. Wanted to knock you out myself to get you to stop. Not gonna lie, I was bitter as hell when I learned what life with one arm was like. But I’m gonna tell it to you straight, Rick:”

When Rick looks up and sees Negan’s eyes narrowed at the window now, he feels another pang of guilt.

“The thought of losing you would have torn me down more violently than having _both_ arms lopped off.”

Rick doesn’t fight Negan when the larger man shifts his arm out from under his body and moves to sit up. He stares into Negan’s eyes as the man crawls atop him and straddles his waist.

“I’ve got plenty I can do with one arm.” Negan states plainly. “I can shoot, swing, and flip any asshole I want the bird. Rubbing one out left-handed is a challenge, but I can still _do_ it. And since it’s _my arm_ and not _your life_ , I still get to do _this._ ”

The words are followed by the gentlest touch to the side of Rick’s face. He closes his eyes and tips his head into the warm digits touching him. Raising a hand, he covers Negan’s fingers with his own.

“And that’s what I thought about when you were on the ground back there,” Negan finishes. “You very well could have been dead, and if your plan hadn’t worked, you _would_ have been, and I didn’t fucking want that.”

“Yeah…” Rick nods, turning his head to press a kiss to the palm of the other man’s hand. “Me either.”

“Never again, Rick.” Negan orders softly. “No more Russian Roulette. We’ve come so close to dying too many times. You hobble like an old man and I struggle to beat off left-handed. We are retiring and sticking to the Sanctuary. I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with you, and you’re not gonna sacrifice your fucking way out of it anymore.”

Rick doesn’t mind that he doesn’t give him a chance to protest. When the larger man dips down and seals his order with a kiss, Rick eagerly kisses back. He’s particularly sensitive to all the sensations swimming around them in the process—like the warmth of Negan’s mouth on his own, and the way he kisses slowly, almost as if he’s timing the movements of his lips with his own breathing. Rick sighs pleasantly into the way Negan’s hand slides away from his face and his arm moves to curl around the top of his head so that he can lean further into the contact.

Rick’s ears are ringing, but in the best way possible. It’s due to a head rush that comes as a result of the realization that he’s so head over heels in love with this man. That somehow, despite everything going wrong, they’ve managed to power through it. That Rick actually has the opportunity to spend the rest of his life with someone he adores more than his own existence itself.

He aches from the loss of his wife and son, and the injury to his leg is a bitter reminder of the things that followed, but he’s got a future. Negan is determined to make sure they _have_ a future. Who would Rick be to turn that away?

Tipping his head, Rick parts his lips into the kiss, his tongue seeking out Negan’s. He draws both hands up and threads them through his husband’s already-messy hair, and at the top of his head, his fingers ball into loose, needy fists.

“Negan…” He moans shamelessly into the already-sloppy open-mouthed kiss. “Don’t stop…”

“I don’t plan on it,” Negan pants back against Rick’s lips, pressing the entirety of his body down onto his lover’s. He offers a slow, deliberate rock of the hips. “I’m gonna fuck every bit of how much you mean to me right into you. You’re never gonna forget.”

“Somehow, you make that not sound stupid,” Rick teases as he breaks off the kiss and trails his lips along Negan’s chin and jaw. “I love you too, you big goof.”

“You’d better,” Negan laughs, curling a leg around one of Rick’s. “You married me. This is forever.”

“’Til death do us part,” Rick quotes.

“Don’t say that. Death is bullshit,” Negan demands as he buries his face in Rick’s hair. Afterward, he draws downward and away from Rick’s lips, kissing down along his chest. Rick’s still got a T-shirt on, and he becomes glaringly aware of that fact when Negan uses his teeth to pull the hem of it up a little. “...Take that off for me.”

As Rick arches and shifts to pull the article free from his body, he feels Negan’s teeth and tongue working along his navel and toward his groin. It’s all the gentle nips of the older man’s teeth along sensitive flesh, followed by the warm massage of a wet tongue circling the fresh bites. Negan sucks on a spot just above Rick’s hipbone that he can’t help but rock his hips up into.

“You deserve so much more than a good lay, you know that?” Negan praises as he tucks his hands into Rick’s boxers and pulls his half-erection free from the slot in the front.

Rick looks down at him and laughs. “What could you possibly give me that you haven’t already? You saved my life and gave me hope, and now you’re promisin’ me stability. That’s more than enough, Negan.” He chuckles again when Negan nuzzles his cock affectionately. He can feel himself growing harder in the other man’s grip, and Negan’s not even doing anything. “Stop bein’ sentimental and have sex with me. Still got a marriage to consummate, remember?”

“You know I do,” Negan replies, and Rick feels some relief to see that mischievous grin form on his lover’s lips. Negan doesn’t give him any time to respond to it, though, because the instant Rick gives him the green light, he’s sucking the tip of him into his mouth and bobbing down, working to get him to full mast.

Of course, Negan doesn’t stop there. Within a handful of minutes, Rick’s plenty hard in Negan’s mouth, but the other man continues sucking. He swirls his tongue along the head, teasing the underside, and then bobs down as far as he can take. Lucky for Rick, that’s damn near everything. And between that hot, wet mouth and the fingers giving his balls gentle attention through the opening of his shorts, he’s left panting and arching against the bedsheets.

Negan pulls back, releasing Rick’s erection from his mouth with a ‘pop!’ He rests his chin on his lover’s hip bone, grinning up at him.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” He urges, and Rick can’t help but notice the raspiness in his voice from having his partner’s dick just about down his throat. This sends shocks of arousal up Rick’s spine.

“Your fingers. Fuck me with your fingers.” The answer comes out before Rick can even think about it. “Make me come…and then make me come again.” As if to prove his point, he slides his hands down and shoves his boxers off all the way.

“You got it,” Negan answers. As he continues his earlier task of kissing and sucking along Rick’s groin and abdomen, he drags his hand up to Rick’s mouth. Without question, Rick sucks two of the digits between his lips and puts on a show of getting them wet.

It’s as Rick swirls his tongue between the fingers, sucking lightly on them, that Negan speaks up. “Goddamn, you’re good at that. Gonna have to get my dick in there some time today, hope you know that…”

Rick flushes visibly, nodding, before he pulls back away from Negan’s fingers. “You will. But for now…”

“Yeah, I know,” Negan replies. “Fucking you. I’m getting there.”

Most of the times Rick and Negan had slept together before, it’d been a hasty, needy thing. They’d gotten caught up in the swell of one another’s tide, and they’d just lost themselves in passion. Often times, Negan would use his fingers just long enough to get Rick ready for what was to come. It was rare that he’d use them to actually give Rick pleasure.

But right now, he’s _definitely_ giving Rick pleasure. Despite their usual pace, Negan’s able to find Rick’s prostate without much effort. He’s going on about how every time he brushes his middle finger against it, Rick’s dick twitches, and how he wants to hear his name on Rick’s lips as he comes.

Rick obliges. While he grips the sheets and fucks himself down onto Negan’s fingers, he comes hard on his own chest and stomach, spilling wave after wave of white hot pleasure onto his skin. He goes limp for a moment afterward, allowing himself time to catch his breath. But in less than a minute, he’s yanking Negan up so that he can kiss him.

It’s a desperate kiss, lingering and hungry and conveying all the words that Rick doesn’t possess the ability to formulate right now. He knows his grip on Negan’s face has to be near-painful, but he doesn’t care. Negan doesn’t seem to mind, either.

“Fuck me, Negan…” Rick finally begs. “Need you inside me right now.”

It’s not even for the sexual gratification, either. It’s for the feeling of having Negan so goddamned close. For the sensation of them being inseparable. For Negan’s warmth and for his existence. It’s just because Rick _needs_ it.

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Negan quips, but the words barely register in Rick’s mind. All he notices is how after Negan’s shorts are pushed down, one of his own legs is pulled up over Negan’s shoulders, so he follows suit with the other. Negan’s hand wraps around Rick’s right thigh, pulling him in close, and once he’s got him there, he releases his partner’s leg and reaches down to guide his cock as he pushes inside.

“…Ah, fuck…” Negan moans as he urges himself into Rick’s body. He does so slowly, until he’s all the way in, and then he looks down to meet his partner’s eyes. Rick knows he looks like a damn mess, all sweaty and flustered, with his mouth hanging open in delight. He hopes it’s everything Negan has ever wanted to see. “Baby, you feel so good. You’re fucking perfect.”

“You too,” Rick somehow manages, as he pushes himself up with both hands and urges Negan back. Soon, he’s got himself practically in his husband’s lap, his legs shifting down to move around his partner’s waist. A good portion his weight is supported on his arms, as he starts to rock himself down onto Negan.

He senses Negan’s approval in the way the larger man curls his arm around his frame and pulls him in closer, and then they start moving. Negan buries his face in the crook of Rick’s neck, and Rick throws an arm around Negan’s shoulders.

Their bodies move together erratically from the get-go. They’re all shameless, panting moans and mouths hanging open. Rick’s got his fingernails dug deep into the skin on Negan’s shoulder blade, and Negan’s got sweaty fingers clinging for dear life around his partner’s waist.

The older man comes first, spilling hot and full into Rick’s body, and the heat alone draws another moan from Rick. Negan doesn’t stop, though. His thrusts are deliberate and rough, determined to bring Rick over the edge, and despite Rick having already come not too long ago, he finishes all over again a few moments later, release spilling out with each rock of the hips onto his and Negan’s torsos.

Negan pulls out and lets Rick flop down onto the mattress, before he covers his partner’s body with his own. He steals a series of languid kisses, and they both know it’s because neither of them wants to stop. If not for the sheer overstimulation of it all, they’d still be fucking one another right now.

Like the old men they are, they fall asleep like that together. The cabin doesn’t have running water, so they shower in the RV. It’s too small for them both to fit into it, but it doesn’t matter, because not long after their shower, they’re wrapped up in one another against one of the RV’s walls. They make no apology upon exiting looking just as disheveled as before.

Most of that day is spent together, fucking and kissing and lounging around. In the evening, they have a few more drinks with Simon and Arat. But before they get too wasted, they retreat back to the cabin. They find themselves lying on that same couch from so long ago, with Rick’s head in Negan’s lap and Negan’s hand on his chest. Like before, Rick’s fingers dance tiny circles along his husband’s knuckles.

They’re going to have to return to the Sanctuary soon. It’s not a huge deal, since Negan and Rick know they’ll be sleeping in the same bed together every single night after this, but they both know how busy running that place is. Time together isn’t going to be as easily found as it is right now.

“You remember when we sat here last time?” Rick questions, breaking a silence neither man had intended to drag out. He sees Negan nod. “What we talked about? About how busy things were at the Sanctuary, and about how it was gonna be harder for it to be the two of us? You said that it would, no matter what.”

“I did,” Negan recalls, eyes falling shut.

“Do you still think that?”

“Yeah,” Negan answers. His eyes open once more, and he worries his lip a little with his teeth. “Those guys are our fucking family, Rick. We helped them find a place to call home—in a way, it’s like we raised them in the New World Order. That’s a pretty fucking big achievement. But _we_ did it. And it’s still _us_ at the top. It’s always going to be us.”

“Us, and them,” Rick thinks aloud. “Makes so much sense and so little at the same time.”

It’s true, too. While Rick knows that he and Negan will always be inseparable, and that they’ll always have one another, he and Negan both know that they’ve also got the Sanctuary. The scuffle with Dallas and his people has proven that.

“I think it makes perfect goddamn sense,” Negan argues.

“Long as it doesn’t change, I’m fine with it.” Rick shrugs, before he brings his free hand up to Negan’s chest and curls his fingers around his shirt. He pulls him down and presses their lips together. “It’s us against the world, and the world doesn’t stand a fuckin’ chance.”

Negan chuckles. “I love when you talk dirty like that.”


End file.
